


Glory and Honor

by Kenyastarflight



Series: Glory's Tales [8]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Post-Transformers: The Movie (1986), Putting my OC through Hell, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 130,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenyastarflight/pseuds/Kenyastarflight
Summary: Coming of age in the wake of a war is never easy, especially when you're on the losing side... and Glory must find her own path in an increasingly dangerous galaxy.  Originally posted on FFN in 2012, reposted here.
Relationships: Blitzwing (Transformers)/Original Character(s)
Series: Glory's Tales [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717957
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The second multi-chapter story I wrote about my Transformers OC, Glory. After finishing her main story, I knew I would eventually have to address what happens to her after the events of "Transformers: The Movie." This fic was the result. Growing up is rough, girl... 
> 
> This is an older fic, though not as old as "Thundercracker's Glory," so apologies in advance for any cringe or rough writing. I've chosen not to go back and edit these as I repost. Enjoy, if at all possible.

It was the perfect night for a hunt.

Scarlet optics glinted in the shadows, sweeping the room for any sign of movement. The predator was in luck - none of the room's occupants so much as twitched a servo in their recharge, the constant cycle of fans and the thrum of idling systems the only indication they were even alive. All was still, and the whooshing and hummming both mechanisms made in their sleep only served to mask whatever small noises a stalking hunter happened to make.

Despite all efforts at control, a smile tugged at her lip plates. Circumstances couldn't have been more perfect.

One of the recharging mechs chose that moment to shift in his sleep, grunting and snorting as he arranged himself into a more comfortable position. She froze, ready to bolt should the mech awaken and turn in her direction, but he only settled himself and sank deeper into recharge. Stifling a sigh of relief, she slunk forward, each footstep taken with deliberate care, every servo tensed to spring as soon as the moment presented itself.

Her chosen prey lay on his back - not surprising, given that Seekers had limited choices in sleeping positions. One arm lay draped across his chest, hand still holding a datapad, while the other hung off the edge of the berth. His face was turned away from her, so that even if he happened to awaken, she would have a precious moment's grace before he could turn and spot her. His wings twitched, a good sign - she knew this mech well enough to know that his wings moved like that only when he was deeply in recharge.

There was the faintest creak of joints as she gathered herself... a moment's silence as she leaped to attack...

"OW! What the frag?"

"Gotcha!" And she went in for the "kill," clamping her dental plates on his arm. Her jaw servos weren't powerful enough to do much more than scratch his paint, but she gamely hung on anyhow.

"Glory, do you have any idea what time it is?" Thundercracker demanded, trying to pry her off his arm. "You should be in recharge."

"I'm not Glory!" she insisted, pulling her mouth away just long enough to correct him. "I'm a cyberdragon! And cyberdragons hunt by night!"

"For the love of..." began Thundercracker, but the room's other occupant chose that moment to awaken, slanted red optics snapping online and head swiveling to take in the scene. With an enraged shriek the mech launched himself from Glory's berth, landing on the floor in a scramble of hooves as he tried rushing to the femme's rescue even before he'd fully landed from his jump.

"Primus," Thundercracker groaned, and he raised his free arm in a gesture of surrender. "Wildfire, down! She's not hurt! She's playing!"

Wildfire skidded to a halt, cycling air in furious snorts as he glowered up at the blue Seeker. His gaze moved to Glory, obviously not believing the mech for a second.

"It's okay, boy," Glory assured him. "I'm okay. We're just playing."

The equine beastformer gave Thundercracker one last hostile glower before giving a gusty snort and turning back to the berth. His ears drooped in disappointment - it had been weeks since Glory had last been allowed out on a battlefield, and Wildfire had been badly itching for a fight of some kind.

Thundercracker sighed and pulled his arm free of Glory's grip. "Glory, it's late. You should be recharging, not playing cyberdragon, okay?"

"You're up late playing a lot," she pointed out, folding her arms and glaring up at him. "Why can't I be up late and play too?"

"You're young," he replied. "Your spark hasn't fully matured yet. You need your nightly defrags to keep your spark and processor healthy. Besides, cyberdragons don't live in this quadrant of Cybertron. Why not pretend to be something local, like a glitchmouse or an electro-cat..."

"Those are boring," she protested. "Dragons are cool!"

"I concede that point," he admitted with a slight smile. "Still... there's nothing wrong with pretending to be a dragon during the day. Just not at 0230 anymore, all right? You need your rest."

"Okay," she sighed. "What about 0300?"

"No earlier than 0600, all right?"

She nodded reluctantly. She wasn't usually up by that time, though... but maybe she could manage it some morning. Besides, Uncle T had to be up by then to report for duty, and that meant that if he slept in for whatever reason she could pounce on him and be his alarm clock. He couldn't complain then, could he?

"Now c'mon, off to the berth with you." Thundercracker scooped her up and swung his legs over the side of the berth, getting to his feet. "Tomorrow's another big day."

"Lessons with the Stunticons!" she shouted, kicking excitedly.

"Oh, fun," he replied, not sounding the least bit enthusiastic, and set her down on her berth. "Now good night. Recharge well."

"Night, Uncle T."

It took mere moments for both Thundercracker and Wilfire to settle back down and drop into recharge, but Glory remained online awhile longer, folding her arms behind her head and staring at the silvery-violet ceiling. She couldn't suppress a shiver of excitement - tomorrow _was_ a big day. Motormaster had promised her that during her next lesson with his team he'd begin teaching her Metallikato! The Cybertronian martial art was said to be difficult to master completely, but most mechs with any skill in hand-to-hand combat knew at least a few basic moves. And after watching the Stunticons practice it during their sparring sessions and seeing it in action in holovids, she was eager to try it out for herself.

Of course, neither she nor Motormaster had told Thundercracker about that part of the upcoming lesson. If he knew what they were up to, he'd probably rupture a fuel line. Funny, he never complained about any of Glory's more boring lessons, but everything halfway interesting like fighting or swordplay or target practice seemed to upset him. The only exception to that was flying - he seemed nothing but happy that Glory loved to fly as much as he did.

She shuttered her optics, letting her CPU processes drift. It had been a year since they'd returned to Cybertron, Megatron's presence serving to bring new hope to the Decepticon forces and fully liberating the planet from the clutches of the Autobots. It was strange - despite having been created on Cybertron and spending most of her life here, it had taken her a long time to adjust to calling it home again. Earth had been weird, true, with the underwater base and funny organic life forms, but she'd come to think of it as home. In a way, she missed looking out the window and seeing the ocean floor in all directions, missed sneaking out of the base to chase sharks and dolphins, missed tuning in to the humans' information networks and giggling over their television shows and movies. And while it had given her a sense of irrational pleasure to be able to give her uncle a tour of Cybertron, one that had changed quite a bit in the four million years he'd been away, part of her still wished she could return to Earth.

The one down side of Earth was that the Autobots were there, and they still scared her to some degree. Still, she wasn't helpless anymore - it had been a year and a half since she'd been held captive by Optimus Prime's forces, and in that time she'd learned quite a bit about how to defend herself. She had no delusions about being able to defeat the Prime or a Dinobot or anything, but she was pretty confident she'd be able to hold her own long enough to escape should they corner her.

She idly toyed with the fantasy of chasing down that funny yellow Minibot and dragging him back to the base as a captive... until Thundercracker's comm beeped, shattering the daydream.

"What the..." the blue Seeker grumbled, sitting up. "Thundercracker reporting. Yes, Lord Megatron... yes... at this hour? No, I'm not questioning your orders, sir. On my way, my Lord, ETA two kliks. Out." He gave a deep sigh and stood. "So much for a good night's recharge..."

"What was that?" Glory asked, sitting up in her own berth. Wildfire shifted and mumbled in his recharge beside her, but didn't wake up.

"A mission," Thundercracker replied. "Megatron wants the Seekers to report for duty. I don't know anything beyond that." He picked up his armguns from the desk and clipped them on. "Go back to sleep, all right?"

"I wanna come with you," she insisted, sliding down off the berth. "I wanna know where you guys are going! And maybe Megatron'll let me come too!"

"I hope not," he murmured, frowning. "I don't want a repeat of the battle at the power station..."

"That only happened once!" she protested. "And I got Wildfire now, that won't happen again! Pleeeeeeease?"

Thundercracker groaned and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor. "All right... you can come with me to the briefing. But you'll leave without complaint if Megatron sends you away, and you _won't_ make a fuss if he says you can't come along. Promise?"

"Promise," she vowed.

"Good. Now let's go, Starscream's probably already griping about us holding up the briefing."

Glory nodded and trotted after her uncle, having to take three steps for every one of his strides. Whatever was going on sounded important... hopefully important enough for her to watch and learn. It had been a long time since she'd gotten to visit a battlefield, and finally getting to see one today would be an even bigger treat than learning Metallikato.

* * *

"So we're both going!" Skywarp exclaimed, clapping Thundercracker on the back. "Awesome! It's been too fraggin' long since we got to team up on a mission..."

"You know full well why that's the case," Thundercracker replied as the two Seekers left the briefing room. "One of us has to stay at the base to keep an optic on Glory."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to like it," Skywarp grumped. "We fight better as a team, after all. Someone's gotta watch your big blue aft..."

"Who's the one who had to rescue you during the last firefight?" demanded Thundercracker. "Because _someone_ was too busy taunting the Autobots to pay attention to where he was going and flew smack into a window."

"Oh... right." Skywarp grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm still finding glass in weird places... but that was only once, all right?"

Thundercracker said nothing else as the two of them headed for the barracks, Glory hurrying along beside them. To be honest, Thundercracker would have felt a lot more comfortable with this whole mission had Megatron permitted one of the two Seekers to stay behind and watch over Glory. The last time he'd left her alone in the care of Swindle had ended in disaster, and he didn't want a repeat of _that_ entire fiasco. And while she considered the Stunticons her best friends, there was no way in the Pit he'd consider enlisting them to watch over her.

Though he supposed leaving her here was far safer than bringing her along. This mission sounded extremely dangerous, with the Decepticons' best warriors trailing and hijacking an Autobot transport. Given the nature of the whole venture, there wouldn't exactly be a safe place for Glory to hole up and watch the battle from afar. Plus, he wasn't sure if letting her see all this violence and carnage up close was good for her, Decepticon-in-training or not, even though she seemed nothing but enthusiastic about it.

"I'm not gonna be able to go, am I?" she asked at that moment, as if reading his thoughts. "It's not fair..."

"This isn't a mission for sparklings," Thundercracker replied. "Megatron has to be very picky about who comes on this mission, since there won't be room on the transport for all of us. And he wants only his most experienced soldiers."

"Chin up, kid," Skywarp added. "I'm sure you'll get to come along next time."

Glory shrugged a bit. "I guess... but I'm gonna be bored while you guys are gone. Even Rumble and Frenzy are going!"

"Hey, you still got Swindle and the Stunticons to play with," Skywarp told her. "Don't tell me those guys are boring!"

"No... but I'm still gonna get bored." Abruptly she hugged Thundercracker around the legs. "Be careful, Uncle T."

"Of course I'll be careful," he assured her, reaching down to pat her helm gently. "I'll be back before you even miss me. Just promise me you'll mind Swindle while I'm gone, okay?"

"Okay." She squeezed him tightly, then released him and dashed off down the hallway.

Skywarp chuckled. "She'll be fine, TC. Don't worry so much, okay?"

Thundercracker watched Glory duck into their quarters, pondering. Then, decision made, he turned to Skywarp. "I have a favor to ask."

"Shoot."

"If I don't make it back for some reason... I want you to look after her, okay?"

The black jet's optics flared in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Perfectly serious," Thundercracker replied. "She knows you, she trusts you, and I trust you a LOT more than I trust Swindle or the Stunticons to take care of her. If, Primus forbid, anything were to happen to me, you'd be the closest thing she had to family to look after her."

Skywarp looked down at the floor, scuffing the violet-silver alloy with one foot. "That's a lot of responsibility to dump on a mech, TC," he pointed out.

"I know," Thundercracker acknowledged, "but I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think you could do it."

Skywarp sighed. "All right... I'll do it. But I doubt it's gonna happen anyhow. We're gonna go to Earth, kick Autobot aft, and come back and celebrate with high grade and _Top Gun._ You'll see."

"For all our sakes, I hope you're right."

"Oh, cheer up, you grump," Skywarp laughed, and he kept a hand on Thundercracker's shoulder as they headed for the main hangar to await the rest of their team... and to prepare for their upcoming strike on Autobot City.


	2. Aftermath

"Gangway!"

Shockwave looked up from his datapad... and hurriedly stepped to the side as a dark gray vehicle tore down the hallway, nearly running him down. The carformer whooped and cackled as he rounded the corner, leaving a dark smear of skidmarks on the floor as he went.

"What on Cybertron..." Shockwave began, headfins angling out in shock as his logic processor tried to compute what was going on. Was the base under attack? Were the Stunticons fleeing some sort of menace that had somehow managed to breach his tower's defenses?

"Look out!"

This time he didn't get out of the way quite in time, and the sleek white vehicle clipped his heel as it sped past with a terrified wail. The datapad went flying as Shockwave staggered, arms flailing in a desperate effort to regain his balance. The next two vehicles, yellow and dark red respectively, streaked by without incident, but the final vehicle struck him square in the side and knocked him down entirely, running over his legs for good measure as it barreled after the others.

Shockwave rebooted his optic a few times, waiting for the pain buzzing through his sensory circuits to clear. Then he sat up, carefully assessing the damage. He was lucky, he supposed - few mechs, Autobot or Decepticon, came out of an encounter with the Stunticons with nothing worse than a few dents and some scuffed paint. His legs ached, but the struts and cables seemed whole and undamaged, so that was some comfort.

"Are you okay?"

His gaze rested on yet another form coming down the hall, though this one approached him at a far more sedate pace - a red and gold horseformer, head bobbing with each step as he ambled down the corridor, Glory perched on his back. Evidently, so long as the Stunticons' rampaging didn't affect his charge, Wildfire was beyond caring.

"I am operational, Glory," Shockwave replied, pushing himself to his feet. "What are you doing here? You should be in the care of Swindle for the time being."

"I got lessons," she replied. "With the Stunts. Well, today I'm supposed to have lessons with Hook, but he's still gone, so I'm with Motormaster again."

"Then should you not catch up with them to resume your studies?" Shockwave inquired.

"They'll be back," she said with a shrug. "Motormaster's just mad 'cause the Stunts were teaching me Metallikato moves and Breakdown kicked Wildrider by accident, then he kicked back, then they started fighting, then Dragstrip joined and..."

"I can deduce how the rest went," Shockwave cut in. It didn't take a top-of-the-line processor to figure out how one accidental blow could lead to Motormaster losing his temper and engaging in a wild chase through the corridors. He gave the sparkling a long, studious look, then gestured for her to follow him. "As your caretaker doesn't wish for you to be left unattended, it would be best if you accompanied me until Motormaster or Swindle returned."

"Okay!" she said brightly. "Giddyap, Wildfire! Follow Shockwave!"

Wildfire snorted and complied, trailing after the violet mech like a loyal turbohound. Which, Shockwave surmised, wasn't that far off the mark. The bodyguard's chassis had been modeled after a Terran equine, but his programming had been borrowed from domestic Cybertronian animals such as turbohounds and electro-cats, with just a dash of cyber-dragon mixed in for added ferocity in the heat of a fight. And while he recognized Glory first and foremost as his mistress, he was also programmed to take orders from Megatron, Shockwave, and Thundercracker, though orders from Megatron and Glory always overrode orders from Shockwave or Thundercracker. The end result, Shockwave felt, was more than adequate to ensure the sparkling remained safe until her adult upgrade.

Some mechs had questioned why so much time and energy was being invested in a single sparkling - though naturally, few of those mechs were vocal about their disagreement around Shockwave or Megatron. Under normal circumstances, if a sparkling was found orphaned for whatever reason, it was shipped off to a foundling facility, where it would be raised and educated for the minimum amount of time it took for its spark to fully mature. Then it would undergo a quick upgrade and immediately take its place in Megatron's forces. Only a lucky few ever made it out of that system to find new homes, either with other relatives or with mechs who had no sparklings of their own but wished to raise one. Had Glory's parents not been two of Shockwave's top scientists, both influential in their work on the space bridge project, she would have suffered a similar fate.

It had been a stroke of good fortune for Glory that, not only had Shockwave's interest in her creators convinced him to place her elsewhere, but that one member of her family had remained alive to care for her until she was ready for her adult upgrade. His decision had not gone over well with certain Decepticons - Starscream was quite vocal in his disapproval, and even Megatron had been reluctant at first - but in the end it seemed to have worked out well for all parties involved.

Once the unlikely trio reached the command center, Shockwave pointed to a chair in the corner. "Stay there for now. I have work to do."

"Whatcha gonna do?" she asked. "Can I watch?"

"You may watch provided you stay quiet and don't touch anything," he replied.

Glory nodded and slid from Wildfire's back and onto the chair. She pulled her toy cyberdragon out of subspace and hugged it to her chest, looking up attentively at Shockwave like an expectant student toward a teacher. Wildfire shook himself thoroughly and settled in at her side, giving the violet gunformer a wary look as if expecting him to attack at any moment.

Satisfied that Glory would obey for now, Shockwave turned to the console, activating a screen and beginning the day's work. First to check on the planet's energy reserves-

"What's that button do?"

Shockwave turned to see Glory had left the chair and was at one of the consoles, pointing to a large green button.

"It's to summon a cleaning drone in the event of a spill occurring in the command center," he replied. "Sit down."

"Ooooh... can I push it?"

"No."

"But I wanna see the drone..."

"There is nothing to clean up, and therefore calling a drone now would be illogical. Sit down."

Glory pondered that statement, then turned back to the chair. Shockwave returned his gaze to the readout, analyzing the energy levels of the various sectors of the planet and trying to deduce which sectors had adequate energy, which were running short, and which had a surplus and could afford to transfer some energy to the depleted sectors. Unsurprisingly, there were far more "dark" sectors than those with adequate power, and next to no sectors with a surplus. Once Megatron returned from Earth, he was going to have to talk to him about easing off on their goal to eradicate the Autobots and sending a task force out to find a new energy source-

A crash interrupted his line of thought, and he turned to see Glory looking sheepishly up at him. Thick black paint splattered her legs, the chair, the floor, and the side of Wildfire that had been facing her, and more paint formed a rapidly spreading puddle around the canister that now lay at her feet. A small part of Shockwave's processor realized that she must have smuggled the paint can in her subspace pocket while the rest of his CPU tried to compute just iwhy/i she had thrown the thing to the floor.

"Um... there's a mess now," she pointed out, somehow looking nervous and triumphant at the same time. "Can I push the button now?"

Shockwave pinned his headfins back, offlined his optic, and counted silently for a few moments until he no longer felt like doing something rash to the sparkling. Then he rebooted his optic and pointed at the console with his gun-arm.

"Call the drone," he ordered. "Then sit down and do not move. That is an order."

Glory grinned widely and dashed to the console to summon the drone, leaving a set of black tracks in her wake. Shockwave turned back to the readout and tried to find where he had left off. Yes, making note of the sectors most in need of energy. Their reserves were running low, but they would have to sacrifice some of them to keep the most important sectors running. Non-essential sectors would just have to shut down and wait for conditions to improve-

"Shockwave, that light's flashing!" Glory shouted. "Someone's trying to call! Can I answer it?"

"You may not..." began Shockwave, but she had already pressed the button.

"Shockwave! Shockwave, respond! This is your commander calling!"

"Hi Starscream!" Glory called out.

"W-w-what?" Starscream sputtered. "Who let the brat on the line?"

"I'm not a brat!" she retorted. While it was common knowledge in the base that the Air Commander frightened Glory, evidently that fear didn't extend to talking to him via comm.

"Shockwave reporting," Shockwave cut in, pushing Glory aside by the shoulder. "Situation update."

"The Decepticons return victorious," Starscream replied. "Optimus Prime is dead, and Autobot City is severely damaged. One more push and the Autobot forces will crumble! Returning to repair and resupply."

"Uncle T's back!" Glory dashed over to Wildfire and hugged him around the neck, a joyous smile lighting up her faceplate. "Uncle T's back! Let's go meet him at the landing platform!" And she hauled herself aboard Wildfire's back and urged him out of the command center.

"Someone needs to put a leash on the brat, it sounds like," Starscream grumbled.

"This is excellent news, Starscream," Shockwave replied, "but why is it you making this announcement? Where is Lord Megatron? Has he sustained damage?"

Starscream's oily, satisfied laughter was Shockwave's first clue that something was terribly wrong. "Let's just say that I have every right to be making this announcement... and when we return to base, you will answer to _me_ now."

It felt as if the bottom had dropped out of Shockwave's fuel tank. "Then Megatron is..."

"Dead," Starscream replied in a gloating voice. "Our glorious leader has fallen in battle against Optimus Prime... and I, Starscream, reign supreme over the Decepticons!"

* * *

Swindle knew something was wrong the moment Astrotrain touched down on the landing pad. When the gray and violet shuttle had taken off three days ago he had been in full repair, and even in vehicle mode he had positively glowed with smug triumph, confident in the Decepticons' victory. Now his armor was dented, battered, and cracked in places, dripping oil and energon on the platform. He seemed to sag on his landing gear, wings drooping, engine whining in pain and exhaustion. Even his doors opened with a catch and a groan, as if that small action had taken the last of his energy.

The Combaticon was suddenly glad he hadn't brought Glory out to greet the returning Decepticons. Seeing this would only have freaked her out. If Astrotrain was this badly damaged, there was no telling what kind of shape her uncle was in...

He shook his head and rushed forward to help ferry the wounded off the shuttle. Enough of that. Of course Thundercracker was okay. He would come off that ship a little dinged up but fine, maybe with an acerbic word or two in Swindle's direction before returning to his quarters to clean up and visit with Glory. There was no need to worry... right?

Starscream was the first off the ship, limping badly on a damaged foot but a triumphant smirk on his face. A rather battered Soundwave trailed after him, face as ever hidden by his mask and visor but practically radiating anger and disgust at the red and white Seeker. Swindle neatly sidestepped the Air Commander and moved forward to offer his help to Soundwave, but the cassette-carrier waved him away and followed after Starscream.

"Don't mess with him, he's in a bad mood," Rumble advised.

"What the frag happened?" asked Swindle, motioning for the cassette to step out of the way for further conversation.

"Got our afts kicked is what," Rumble muttered, quickly moving away from the shuttle to avoid being trampled. "Those Auto-bums put up more of a fight than Megatron thought they would. But we still took plenty of 'em out, so I guess it's not all bad."

"Where _is_ Megatron anyhow?" Swindle demanded, looking up to scan the crowd disembarking from Astrotrain's interior. He caught no glimpse of their leader's silver plating... and come to think of it, Thundercracker's telltale blue was absent as well. Had they been whisked off to repair bay first thing, or...

"Megatron's dead," Rumble said flatly. "That or as good as dead."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means that Starscream decided that the only way we could make it back to Cybertron was if we ditched our dead weight - and anyone with severe damage qualified. That included Megatron. Dude, shut your mouth, you're gonna catch turbognats in your vocalizer."

Swindle forced his mouth shut, but he continued to stare at Rumble in disbelief. He had to be joking. There was no way in the Pit that Megatron could be deactivated. He and the Prime had squared off too many times to count and Megatron had never come away with anything but moderate injuries. To hear that he'd been so badly wounded this time that he couldn't even resist being jettisoned from his own ship as dead weight... he couldn't compute that immediately.

"Who... who else did we lose?" he asked, knowing he didn't want to hear the answer.

"Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the Insecticons," Rumble replied. "Coneheads got beat up pretty badly, but they're still kicking..."

"Oh, Primus below," Swindle muttered, feeling as if he'd just taken one of Rumble's pile drivers to the abdominal plate. Of all the mechs that could have fallen in battle, one of them had to be Thundercracker. The blue Seeker had cheated death so often that Swindle had stupidly thought that nothing could put him offline, that perhaps having a sparkling in his care somehow made him immune to fatal damage.

He spoke the first thing that came to his CPU: "How are we gonna tell the kid?"

"Dunno," Rumble confessed. "Hasn't exactly been on my mind on the trip back." He winced as he rubbed the back of his helm, as if feeling for dents. "Starscream, Soundwave, and Hook all declared themselves leader after Megatron got the boot, and you know how well THAT went over. I'm still feelin' it in my struts."

Swindle felt he had a good idea how well that had gone over - whenever a Decepticon commander fell, even if he had already named a successor, other powerful Decepticons inevitably fought over the position like scraplets over a prime chunk of alloy. He was only surprised that the ensuing fight hadn't offlined more of their troops. That and that Starscream had come out of said fight in as good of shape as he was currently in. Then again, Starscream was cunning, and it wasn't a big stretch to think that he had accomplished through trickery what others couldn't through brute force.

"Where _is_ the kid?" asked Rumble. "Ain't she supposed to be with you?"

"She's supposed to be in lessons," Swindle replied. "So she's most likely with the Stunticons..."

"No she ain't," groaned Rumble, pointing.

Swindle turned... and felt his tanks lurch. Wildfire had just arrived on the landing platform, Glory mounted on his back and scanning the crowd expectantly. Cursing his rotten luck, he bolted over to intercept her before she learned the sickening truth.

* * *

It didn't worry Glory right away that her uncle wasn't among the mechs disembarking from Astrotrain. He usually headed straight for their quarters after returning from a battle unless he was injured, and it was possible he was already there, wondering where she was. She supposed she should head back and meet him - he tended to panic when he couldn't find her right away. She gave an exasperated little sigh at that. Get captured by the Autobots once and people thought you were incapable of taking care of yourself.

"Home, Wildfire," she told her bodyguard, nudging him in the withers with a foot. "Let's go see Uncle T."

Wildfire flicked his audial receivers in response and set off at a canter, weaving his way between the returning Decepticons. A few times he brushed close enough to a mech that she could hear the bark of plating against plating, and once he stumbled when he stepped on Thrust's foot. Such actions would have provoked ill-tempered kicks or curses in the past, but strangely the only reactions they got were grunts and irritated looks. Everyone seemed exhausted, even depressed, and that stirred the first feelings of worry in her spark. Did they lose the battle?

On a whim, Glory urged Wildfire in the direction of the repair bay on the way to their room. If the battle had gone south, maybe Thundercracker was here getting patched up. She hoped he wasn't hurt too badly. It always scared her when some fight or accident landed her uncle in repair bay, even for things as minor as a bent wing or a torn cable.

The battle must have gone worse than she'd thought - repair bay was full. Three of the six Constructicons were on repair berths, Long Haul with a busted visor and Bonecrusher and Mixmaster looking as if they'd gone several rounds with the Dinobots, and the remaining three were rushing madly about the medbay, barking confused orders back and forth as they tried to repair the wounded. Shockwave was in the thick of things, doing his part to patch up the damaged, and Soundwave had taken his cassettes to a corner berth to make repairs despite looking rather battered himself. She saw no sign of her uncle, though, and felt a twinge of relief at that.

"Where the slag is Swindle anyhow?" demanded Hook, storming past at that moment with a toolbox in hand. "I've radioed him twice and no answer. We need all available repair techs..."

"I'm here!" Swindle shouted, skidding in at that moment. "Glory! There you are, kid! I need to talk to you-"

"Swindle, get your aft here now!" Hook barked.

"I just need a moment to talk to the kid!" he protested.

"You can talk to her when we don't have mechs in danger of bleeding out," Hook snapped, shoving the toolbox at him. "Get to work."

Swindle glowered at the surgeon, then turned to Glory. "Stay here, kid. Find an out of the way spot to sit, but stay here. We'll talk when I'm done, okay?"

"O-okay," she replied hesitantly. Something about Swindle's tone bothered her - he usually wasn't this nervous about anything. She kept an optic on him even as she nudged Wildfire toward a corner of the medbay, hoping that whatever Hook needed him for didn't take too long.

Starscream sat on the berth closest to "her" corner, scowling at Shockwave as the cyclopic mech repaired his foot. She settled into the corner and pulled out her paints and the scrap of metal she was currently working on, hoping they would ignore her. Thankfully, Starscream seemed more focused on berating Shockwave for shoddy work than giving Glory any attention whatsoever. She sighed a little in relief at that and began to paint, finishing up the dragon picture she was making for Skywarp.

"Ouch!" Starscream yelped, reaching out to bat Shockwave upside the head. "Watch it! Clumsy oaf, it's my foot that needs repairs, not my thrusters!"

"My hand must have slipped," Shockwave replied in a mild yet strained voice, which Glory knew by now meant he was getting to the end of his patience. "Apologies, Lord Starscream. I am trying to complete your repairs so that I may return my attention to the more severely wounded."

"My work has the priority," Starscream snapped. "I am your commander now, and you'll do a good job or I'll have your head on my wall!"

"As you command, Lord Starscream," Shockwave replied, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Don't get short with me, Shockwave," Starscream hissed. "You're going to have to learn to accept my leadership. Either that or I'll _make_ you learn. We wouldn't want the Decepticons to fall into chaos with Megatron dead, would we?"

Glory gasped, dropping her paints at that news. Scarlet and yellow spattered her legs, but she hardly noticed. Megatron was dead? But he'd always seemed so invincible, so powerful... how could anything offline him?

Shockwave and Starscream both turned to face the sparkling, alerted by her gasp of alarm. The violet scientist just gazed at her for a long moment before going back to his work, but Starscream wore a smug grin.

"And my first act as leader of the Decepticons is going to be to order that brat to get an upgrade," he went on. "She's been a needless drain on our resources for too long. It's high time she was made useful."

"She is still too young for the procedure," Shockwave countered. "She has to complete her training first. And as her guardian, Thundercracker was the only one authorized to determine that."

"That didn't stop Megatron from determining she was ready the first time," Starscream snapped. "I don't know why he didn't go through with it then either. Besides, with Thundercracker dead..."

The rest of that sentence reached her audials, but was never computed by her CPU. Her picture slid out of her hands and clattered on the floor, now ruined by landing in the pools of spilled paint. Her entire processor was filled with a buzzing horror that drowned out any other input, and her spark chamber seemed to clench so hard it hurt. It couldn't be... her uncle couldn't have... it wasn't possible...

"That's not true!" she finally cried out, shooting to her feet.

"Oh?" Starscream retorted, glaring at her. "You already try to defy me, scraplet?"

"It's not true!" she screamed at him, clenching her fists tightly. "You're lying!"

"Don't you dare talk back to me, brat!" The Seeker pushed himself up from the berth and strode toward Glory, optics glinting angrily. "Thundercracker coddled you far too much, but with him gone that's going to change. You'll learn respect for me- GAAAH!" He leaped back as Wildfire planted himself between him and Glory, audial receivers pinned back, dental plates bared, legs braced to spring. "Miserable drone!"

"He is only doing what he was programmed to do," Shockwave pointed out coolly. "Wildfire, stand down."

The horseformer snarled, as if longing to disobey by tearing out Starscream's fuel lines, but he backed away.

Glory turned to the violet mech, feeling her optics sting with fluid buildup and her internals tighten with fear. "Is... is he right?" she asked. "Is Uncle T..." She couldn't say it, but surely Shockwave knew what she meant. And while the guardian of Cybertron had never been all that friendly or interesting, he had never lied to her. Surely he would tell her that Starscream was just lying to be cruel...

Shockwave couldn't convey emotion in a conventional manner with his nearly featureless face, but the way his headfins drooped made him look unexpectedly regretful. "Thundercracker was offlined in the battle against Autobot City, Glory."

Glory's leg servos seemed to fail her at that moment, and she sat heavily on the floor. The pressure in her internals built until it threatened to crush her, like a black hand squeezing her in an iron grip. Everything was suddenly fuzzy, as if all her systems were going haywire. Even her air cycles were out of whack, shallow and quick and doing nothing to cool her rapidly overheating systems...

Wildfire brought her back to reality with a gentle shove of his muzzle against her side. As if that had activated some kind of pressure release in her, she finally began sobbing, grabbing him around the neck and burying her face against him. Her uncle was gone... the last of her family had been taken by the Autobots, and she was alone.


	3. Coronation

Swindle almost hoped Glory had already cried herself into exhaustion when he opened the door to the room that had once been Thundercracker's quarters. He couldn't deny that she had every right to be upset at the moment, especially given the harsh way she'd learned about her uncle's death. But it wrenched his spark to see her so sparkbroken, and somehow any attempt to get her to cheer up seemed false and hollow.

Glory lay on her side on Thundercracker's berth, curled up as if to shield herself from the outside world. She no longer cried, but her intakes hitched in a sort of half-sob every so often. From the look of things, she hadn't even moved since Swindle and the Stunticons had carried her into the room last night. Sighing, he shut the door behind him and approached the berth, only for a vicious snarl to stop him. Belatedly he spotted the crimson-and-gold form curled up beside Glory, and he backed up a step as Wildfire raised his head to glower at him.

"Hey, down, buddy," Swindle said warily, backing up a step. "I ain't gonna hurt her."

Wildfire snorted as if in disbelief, pinning his audial recievers back.

"I'm just here to take her for her morning energy," Swindle assured him. "Now back off, okay?"

Wildfire snorted again, then laid his head back down, though he never took his optics off the Combaticon.

Swindle sighed again as he moved to the side of the berth. Poor kid. It was bad enough that she had lost her creators in this war, but now Primus or Fate or whatever force powered the universe had to be cruel and take away her uncle as well. One had to be blind or an idiot to not see that Glory loved Thundercracker like a father, and that he had cared deeply for her in return. While the Combaticon wasn't exactly close to his own creator and couldn't completely sympathize with her, he did feel bad for her loss. And with both Thundercracker and Skywarp gone and Starscream harboring no interest in her welfare, she was left without a caretaker... and with an uncertain future.

"Glory? Can you get up?"

It was as if she'd switched off her audials - she didn't even twitch in response.

"C'mon, kid, you need to get up," he urged gently. "You need your energy."

Silence. Then her voice drifted up, quiet and hoarse from last night's exertions. "I don't want it."

"I know it hurts, Glory," he replied, sitting down on the edge of the berth. "But you know TC wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. He would have wanted you to stay strong for him."

She wrapped her arms around Wildfire's neck and hugged him tightly, hard enough for the horseformer to whine slightly in pain. "Why did he lie to me?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Swindle, sudden worry gnawing at his spark.

The sparkling's body shook as she began crying again, pressing her face against Wildfire. "He told me he never leave me... he said he'd always be there. He lied to me! Just like Mommy and Daddy... they said they'd never go away and they're gone too! Even Uncle Warp's gone! They said they'd stay and they left me!"

"Oh kid..." Swindle reached out and rested a hand on her back, wincing a bit at how hard she was shaking. "They didn't leave you on purpose. They didn't know this was going to happen. Slag, nobody knew this was going to happen, not even Megatron! They were planning on coming back, and it's not their fault the Autobots got in the way."

"Then I hate the Autobots!" she cried. "I hate 'em!"

Well, at least her anger was being channeled in a somewhat useful direction. And if Megatron were here, he'd probably order Swindle to encourage Glory's hatred toward the Autobots and make her a more effective soldier. But he couldn't find it in his spark to do it. She'd suffered enough already in so short a time - why poke at a fresh wound?

"Glory," Swindle said quietly, "I'm sorry. Sorry for everything." He patted her back one more time, then stood. "I'm going to go get you a cube, and you can drink it in here when you're ready, okay?"

Glory sniffed loudly, clearing her vents of optic cleanser that had leaked into them from her weeping. "'Kay."

"Wildfire, watch over her, all right?"

Wildfire raised his head again and gave Swindle a disdainful look, as if to ask him if he was an idiot. Then he huffed and resumed his position by her side, nuzzling the side of his long face against her. For a moment Swindle wondered what was going on in the drone's simple CPU, and if he possessed enough of a spark to worry for Glory. Certainly he seemed distressed that his charge was in visible pain and he couldn't seem to do much about it.

With a sigh Swindle left the room, letting the door slide shut behind him.

"How is she?"

Swindle turned to see Dragstrip standing beside the door, arms folded, lip plates pressed together in a worried line.

"Not good," he admitted. "Looks like she was up crying all night. I would've spent the night with her but the bodyguard wouldn't let me."

Dragstrip snorted. "Piece of junk doesn't seem to realize we just want to help her. He wouldn't even let us carry her back to her room until Motormaster practically sat on him."

"I know, Drag, I was there," Swindle reminded him. "Fraggit, wish Skywarp was here. He'd have known what to do. Next to TC he had the most experience with her."

"Which reminds me, we still gotta inform his creators about this," Dragstrip replied. "Don't think anyone has yet, and you know how well it'll go down if Starscream drops the bombshell." His visor flickered as something occured to him. "Hey, think they'd take Glory in if we told them about her? I know they don't share programming, but still..."

"Dunno, never met them. They might not even be the parenting type. Look at how Skywarp turned out, for Sigma's sake."

"He turned out a slag of a lot better than Starscream did," Dragstrip pointed out. "Besides, 'Warp considered himself part of the family. And she liked him too. If his creators are anything like him, she'd be right at home with them."

Swindle mulled that over as he and the Stunticon headed for the energon dispensers. To be honest, he didn't want Glory leaving the base at all. He was fond of the kid, and while he didn't know the first thing about parenting he did feel he knew her better than most other mechs who were still among the functioning. And as much as Starscream disliked the sparkling, he was pretty sure the Air Commander (he refused to think of him as the Decepticon leader) would strongly object to her foregoing her adult upgrade and leaving the base, denying him a possible soldier.

But the more he thought about it, the more he had to admit that Dragstrip's suggestion made sense. If Glory stayed here, not only would she likely be forced into a premature upgrade, but she would be utterly alone. At this point in her life she still needed an adult to look after her, preferably one who had experience with sparklings, and those just weren't handy in the Decepticon base. And it might just do her some good to be around mechs who had known Skywarp. Besides, it wasn't as if she'd be leaving the planet, right? Swindle could always find an excuse to stop by and visit her.

"What's on your processor, Swindle?"

Swindle glanced up to see Frenzy perched atop a table near the energon dispensers, passing an empty cube from hand to hand. "What's it to you?" he asked, frowning at the cassette.

"What, a mech can't ask a simple question?" Frenzy asked, scowling. "You looked deep in thought, figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

"He's probably thinking about Glory," Dragstrip put in, going to the dispensers. "We were discussing what's gonna happen to her now."

Frenzy grunted. "Nothin' good, if Starscream gets his way. Last I heard, he was debating between pushing for an upgrade or shipping her out of the base for good."

"Did we really expect anything else from our _compassionate_ leader?" Swindle muttered acidly.

"Not really," Frenzy admitted. "Though unless someone else wants to step up and take over guardianship of her, ain't a lot we can do to stop it."

"Actually, there might be something," Swindle told him. "Dragstrip suggested we find Skywarp's creators and ask them if they'd be willing to take her in."

Frenzy cocked his head to the side and considered that. "Huh... never thought of that. I know ol' 'Warp talked about his folks a couple times, but slag if I can remember much. Though wouldn't it make more sense to find Thundercracker's parents?"

"They're dead," Swindle replied bluntly. "Maternal creator caught in a mine cave-in, paternal creator offlined in battle. I looked up his records already."

"Ouch," Frenzy winced. "Okay, so that option's out. But what makes you think Skywarp's parents are gonna want to take in a complete stranger?"

"I don't know how they'll react," Swindle admitted. "I doubt they even know their creation is dead, and that's going to be enough of a shock for them to hear without adding a request to adopt a sparkling on top of it. All I'm saying is that it's an option, and that it can't hurt to ask."

Frenzy nodded slowly. "Yeah, point. Still don't like it, I like the kid and don't want to see her go. But it sounds like it's for the best."

"First we gotta contact Skywarp's parents," Dragstrip put in. "Who's got a name or a location?"

"Dude, you're talkin' to a mech with connections," Frenzy replied, grinning smugly. "Where Soundwave's got access, I've got access, and that includes the personnel files. All I gotta do is pull up Skywarp's folder and have a look. It'll be, what, a klick tops?"

"You do that, then," Swindle told him, collecting a few cubes - one for himself and one each for Glory and Wildfire. "Get back to us as soon as you've got it, then we'll decide who gets to do the asking."

"Not me," Dragstrip muttered. "Probably not Dead End either, he's the last mech you want talking to someone who's just lost a member of their family unit."

Swindle opened his mouth to reply, but a sudden announcement over the intercom system silenced him.

 _"All units are hereby ordered to report to the Polyhex main plaza for Lord Starscream's coronation ceremony,"_ Shockwave announced, sounding unamused to the point of disgust at delivering the news. _"Repeat, all units are ordered to report to the plaza immediately. There are no excuses for being absent. Orders from Lord Starscream."_

"Yeesh, he sure isn't taking long to establish himself as leader," Swindle muttered, scowling.

"Tell me about it," Frenzy groaned, his faceplates contorting as if he'd just taken in a mouthful of tainted fuel. "Guess our little fact-finding mission waits until we get back."

"This is _so_ going to suck transistors," grumped Dragstrip, turning to stomp off.

Swindle said nothing as he headed back for Glory's room, walking as quickly as he possibly could without dropping or spilling a cube. He wondered if Starscream's order for all units to report had included Glory. He really didn't feel like disturbing her at the moment, and in all honesty he doubted she wanted to watch the coronation. But at the same time, he didn't want on his new commander's bad side, especially since Starscream tended to hold grudges for a long time.

Though there was a faint silver lining to this latest cloud, he supposed - if Glory came to the coronation, Wildfire would insist on coming too. And the thought of Wildfire ripping into Starscream for getting too close to his charge brought the faintest of smiles to Swindle's face.

* * *

Polyhex's main plaza was brightly illuminated by spotlights and colorful ornamental light-tubes in preperation for the ceremony, making the plating of every mech present gleam and glitter. Massive gold-plated statues of the great Decepticon generals and warlords of the past towered overhead, ruby-set optics glowering down at the proceedings as if they had their doubts about the current leader. Banners emblazoned with the Decepticon crest hung from the surrounding buildings, and a platform in the center of the plaza supported a gleaming steel dais on which rested a violet ceremonial throne. Before the throne, Starscream stood with his arms folded across his chest, a rich purple cape hanging from his shoulders, a gloating smile on his face as he awaited his coronation.

Under normal circumstances, Glory would have been fascinated by all the pomp and ceremony going on here. But she only watched detachedly, holding onto Wildfire's neck all the while. Ever since Starscream had told her about Uncle T's death a leaden feeling had taken over her CPU and spark, clouding everything. She couldn't bring herself to be curious or excited about all this, or even happy that Rumble and Frenzy were there with her. It was as if her ability to feel joy in anything had been switched off.

Swindle stood close by, and it didn't escape her notice that he was alternating his attention between her and the Seeker preening himself on the dias. She supposed he was responsible for her now, since Uncle T was... never mind that. For a moment she wondered why it was the Combaticon and not Skywarp watching over her now, then remembered that Skywarp, too, was... no, she didn't want to think about that. Best not to think about it. Letting her processes drift in that direction hurt too much, and at the moment feeling numb was better than the pain.

"Hey kid," Rumble piped up, nudging her gently. "You gonna be okay?"

Glory opened her mouth to answer, found herself torn between a reassuring "yeah" and a truthful "no," and settled for a shrug.

"I'm sorry about your uncle, kid," Rumble said quietly, reaching up to pat her arm. "I really am."

"We both are," Frenzy put in. "He went out with a bang, at least, in a fight... not rusting or corroding like an oldtimer or just shutting down from old age..."

"Stop it," she whimpered, covering her optics. She didn't want to hear about how Thundercracker had died. Not now, anyhow. She just wanted to pretend it had never happened, pretend that Starscream had been lying and her uncle would come back any minute now.

"Yeah, might wanna knock that off, Frenzy," Rumble told his twin. "Don't think it's helping."

"Um..." Frenzy went quiet, obviously wracking his CPU for something helpful to say. "Maybe you can come with us sometime to hunt down the Autobot who did it? Get a little revenge?"

"Dude, Optimus Prime shot him down," Rumble reminded him. "And he's dead. Not a lot of revenge to be had there."

Glory had been about to demand that they stop talking altogether, but Rumble's statement made her pause. "The Prime's dead?"

"Yeah, Megatron blasted him pretty good and stabbed him in the fuel tanks before he keeled over," Rumble replied. "He wasn't dead when we left, but it's all over the human news networks now. He's gone for good."

"Means we gotta move fast to wipe the Autobots out totally before they choose a new Prime, but still, it's something," Frenzy added. "We've never been so close to winning the war, and if we can just..."

A bugle call cut off whatever else the black cassette had to say, and Rumble waved a hand to shush them both as Astrotrain stepped up to the dais, holding a heavy gold crown in his hands. The Constructicons continued their bugle chorus, making Glory briefly wonder how some of them could even play their instruments through their masks. Starscream spread his arms wide, as if welcoming the adoration of his followers, and a smile of pure pleasure shone on his faceplate. No one else seemed to share his joy - Astrotrain held the crown as if it were a load of rubbish he was assigned to toss out, and the Constructicons went rather mechanically through their tune, not missing a note but not giving a spirited performance either. The crowd stirred restlessly, some glaring at the Seeker, others muttering to one another in displeased tones.

Finally Starscream seemed to tire of the trumpeting, and with a screech of "Enough!" he fired a blast in the Constructicons' direction. The stream of energy sliced through their instruments, silencing the music and leaving the mechs bewildered and angry.

"Get on with it," Starscream snarled at the triple-changer. "What are you waiting for?"

Grimacing as if in pain, Astrotrain raised the crown, and Starscream stooped to receive it, his grin widening as it settled over his helm. Then he straightened, raising his voice to address the crowd.

"Decepticons, I declare myself your new leader!" he cried.

There was a smattering of applause and several boos at that, and somewhere behind Glory came a mutter of "Somebody shoot me now."

"Under my leadership we shall usher in a new Golden Age for Cybertron!" Starscream went on, sweeping his arms dramatically. "No more shall we endure the presence of those pathetic Autobots. No more will we chafe under the clench-fisted rule of Lord Megatron, Primus rest his spark. This shall be an era of glory and conquest for us, an era of-"

The guttural roar of a starship's engine drowned out the rest of his speech, and the gathered Decepticons began to scatter with shouts of surprise. Wildfire tossed his head with an angry whinny, optics flashing as he swung his head from side to side, trying to locate the threat.

"What's happening?" Glory cried, clinging to his neck in fright.

"Outta the way, kid!" Swindle shouted, grabbing her hand and yanking her to the side. Wildfire might have protested that gesture, but at the moment he seemed to be of a like mind, and he pushed Glory out of the path of the light purple jet that swooped in for a landing right where they had been standing. Decepticons scattered to either side as the jet coasted to a stop, in the process mowing down several mechs who hadn't been able to get out of the way in time. Motormaster growled in anger as the jet's wing clipped his shoulder, slicing through armor and drawing energon, and an unlucky Ramjet managed to get out of the jet's path only to be knocked to the ground by an incoming blue hovercraft - one of several blue vehicles that touched down in the purple ship's wake.

Glory clung to Wildfire tightly, staring in wide-opticed awe as the vehicles transformed. The blue crafts unfolded into ugly, clawed, bat-winged mechs who glared at the gathered Decepticons with fierce expressions. The jet, meanwhile, took on the form of a tall, lean mech armored in silver and light purple, short wings jutting from his broad shoulders and a cruel, disdainful expression on his faceplate. His arched helm bore a set of horns that looked almost like the ears of an Earth rabbit, and despite her shock Glory almost found herself giggling at that... but the laugh died in her vocalizer when the mech's hard optics moved in her direction, as if he were daring her to mock him.

But it was the final figure touching down that commanded everyone's attention. Royal purple with silver highlights, with a sleek orange cannon fixed to his right arm and three horns arranged on his brow like a crown, he carried himself with the regal yet fearsome air of a tyrant - like Megatron, only far more intimidating. His gaze was haughty and almost contemptuous as it swept the crowd, causing even the bravest of mechs to shift nervously in place. As if satisfied that all present were properly cowed by his presence, he nodded and strode toward the dais, where Starscream was gaping in shock.

The Seeker snapped his mouth shut and recovered his composure, glaring at the newcomer with disgust. "Who dares disrupt my coronation?" he demanded.

The violet mech smirked. "Coronation, Starscream? This is bad comedy."

Starscream opened his mouth as if to demand how this stranger knew his name, then his optics flashed in recognition. "M-Megatron? Is that you?"

The mech's smirk twisted into a snarl of rage. "Here's a hint!" With no further warning he transformed, folding into a heavy cannon of some sort. The air hissed wickedly as a stream of white-hot energy blasted out of the cannon, slamming into the newly crowned Decepticon leader.

Starscream flung his head back, mouth open in a silent howl of agony and optics wide with terror. His armor swiftly blackened and his cloak went up in flames, disintegrating almost instantly. Glory screamed in horror but couldn't tear her gaze from the awful sight.

Something flashed in Starscream's chest - his spark chamber bursting from the overload of energy and heat. His optics winked out, and what parts of his armor weren't already black with char shifted to a deathly gray. But the blast continued, as if the newcomer wasn't merely satisfied with the Air Commander's death. As the gathered mechs watched with varying degrees of horror and disgust the Seeker's body began to crumble, reduced to ash by the intensity of the energy onslaught.

Swindle clapped his hands over Glory's optics then, as if to spare her the sight of it, but it was too late. She pressed back against him, shaking in terror, unable to clear the image from her processor. She had never really liked Starscream, had always been afraid of him and his schemes... but she had never wanted to see him dead either, and certainly not in this horrible a fashion either.

The thrum of energy finally cut off, followed by a crunch. Swindle dropped his hands, and Glory rebooted her optics to see the violet mech standing on the dais now. He wore a triumphant smirk on his face, and scattered at his feet were the golden shards of Starscream's crown. He raised his cannon-arm to the sky and bellowed a challenge.

"Well?" he demanded. "Are there any others who will dare challenge the mighty Galvatron?"

There was no response. Not a mech dared even make a sound, for fear this newcomer would take it as a threat.

"Then I declare myself your leader!" he thundered. "I, Galvatron, am leader of the Decepticons!"

Soundwave stepped forward at that moment, stopping at the dais and letting his visor sweep over Galvatron as if analyzing his every detail. Galvatron, in return, fixed Soundwave with a look just as calculating, sizing him up as a potential adversary.

Then, after a moment that felt like an eternity, Soundwave raised a fist skyward. "All hail Galvatron."

"All hail Galvatron!" came the echo from the crowd, and mechs all around Glory and Wildfire began to cheer. It seemed that Galvatron had passed some sort of inspection on Soundwave's part, and that gave the Decepticons the approval they needed to show their support to this mysterious new leader. There was a slightly hysterical edge to the celebration, though - evidently no one quite trusted this mech yet.

Glory, for her part, just turned and hugged against Swindle's legs, wishing she could hide from Galvatron's fearsome gaze.


	4. Catastrophe

Glory wouldn't get the chance to hide for a while yet, it seemed. Once Galvatron had declared himself leader of the Decepticons he seemed content to just sit on the throne and gloat over his newfound power, but his lieutenant, Cyclonus, had other ideas. The instant his commander had taken his seat, he ordered all Decepticons present to stay put for inspection, and he made the rounds among the mechs to take stock of the troops. The expression he wore seemed to scream that he found the Decepticon forces entirely inadequate for whatever reason, but he didn't voice that thought aloud.

Glory stayed close to Swindle's side during the inspection, close enough to his leg that she was almost hugging against it. She still felt shaky and off-balance from the recent violence of Starscream's abortive coronation, and these new mechs weren't helping matters any. Cyclonus, quite frankly, scared her - despite his odd color and strange choice of headgear, there was a cold and cruel cast to his expression that chilled her whenever she looked at it. And the blue mechs were creepy with their batlike wings and weird pink-clawed hands. They wore Decepticon symbols, yes, but that did nothing to ease her mind or endear them to her in any fashion.

Swindle reached down to pat her helm, and she relaxed just a bit. He'd protect her. The smallest Combaticon had always been kind to her, and somehow she knew he'd protect her from anything these new mechs could do to her.

"I don't trust these fraggers," Ramjet muttered. "Weird guys. Don't know where they came from, who they are even."

"Agreed," Shockwave murmured. "Starscream was at least the devil we knew. Galvatron is completely unknown to us, and that is far more dangerous."

"Dissention against the almighty Galvatron will not be tolerated," Cyclonus said coldly, walking up at that moment. "That is your only warning. The next mech who speaks treachery will be considered a traitor, and punished accordingly."

Ramjet grumbled something under his air vents.

"Repeat that," Cyclonus demanded, optics narrowing.

"I said stuff it up your thrusters, bunny-bot!" Ramjet snapped. "Who made you the boss?"

Cyclonus didn't hesitate - he punched Ramjet hard in the abdominal plate, sending the white jet reeling back into the base of a statue. Glory gave a high-pitched yelp of fright and pressed harder against Swindle, shaking with fear. Wildfire pressed up against her other side, shielding her with his own body as he growled at the lavender mech.

"Does anyone else care to question our authority?" Cyclonus asked in a tone of voice that dared someone to object.

"No, sir," Swindle replied, his voice tight with the effort of keeping it calm and level.

"Good." Cyclonus' gaze moved down to Glory, and she squeezed Swindle's leg all the more tightly in response as the lavender mech's expression shifted from anger to curiousity. "Who is this?"

"Glory, sir," Swindle replied. "Thundercracker's niece."

"She wears no insignia," Cyclonus noted, frowning. "Is she one of ours? What is her function?"

"She's a sparkling, sir," Swindle explained. "Sparklings don't get sigils or functions until they're upgraded."

"A spark-ling," Cyclonus repeated, emphasizing each syllable as if the word were unfamiliar to him. His expression shifted from disdain to puzzlement as he stared at Glory. She ducked her head behind Swindle, not wanting his optics on her any longer.

"What of the beastformer?" Cyclonus asked.

"He's Wildfire, Glory's bodyguard," Swindle explained. "He's here to protect her until her upgrade."

Cyclonus scowled in disgust. "If she has no function and cannot defend herself, she does not belong here. We cannot have mechanisms who will merely be a drain on our resources among our forces."

"But sir..." Swindle began.

"Do NOT question me," Cyclonus snapped. "You will learn to respect your commanders. The sparkling goes. End of discussion." And he strode off to question the Constructicons, none of whom looked thrilled to be speaking to their newfound officer.

Ramjet gave an angry growl as he made his way back to Swindle's side, rubbing at the deep dent in his abdominal plate. "This is gonna get old REAL fast, I can tell. Even Megatron didn't just smack us around for no good reason, unless our names were Starscream."

"Odd," Shockwave mused. "Most mechanisms are aware of the concept of sparklings. There must be some sort of corruption in Cyclonus' databanks."

"There's a corruption in that fragger, all right," Frenzy put in. "Not to mention the pole up his aft. From the look on that faceplate, it looks like he's never smiled once in his life."

"Hey kid, you okay?" Rumble asked, nudging Glory and earning a growl from Wildfire for the action.

Glory shook her head. "I wanna go home," she whined.

"Aw bolts," Swindle muttered. "They haven't been in charge for five breems and they've terrorized her already." Strong hands slipped under her arms and lifted her onto the Combaticon's shoulder. "I'm taking her back to her room. If Cyc asks where we are, tell him where he can stick it."

"Gee, thanks," Ramjet grumbled. "You owe me for this."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Shockwave noted. "I doubt Cyclonus would object to the sparkling being kept out of sight for the forseeable future."

Glory clung tightly to Swindle as he carried her off, tucking her face into his neck, a shudder passing through her frame. She wanted to go home. Not just back to her room, but back to the time before all this had happened. She wanted to wake herself up and find this had all been a nightmare; that Uncle T and Skywarp were still alive and there hadn't just been a takeover by these new, weird Decepticons. She wouldn't even have minded if Starscream were still alive; he had been a little frightening, but she knew in the back of her memory banks that Megatron would always keep him under control. With Galvatron and Cyclonus, there was nothing to hold them back... and it was very clear that Cyclonus, at least, didn't like her.

"We're here," Swindle told her quietly, and she heard a door hiss open. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

She wanted to say no, that she wanted Uncle T and not anyone else, but she just nodded. Swindle might not be her uncle, but she would feel better with someone staying the night, and she would rather it be him than anyone else. More than anything, she didn't want to feel alone right now.

"All right." He carried her into the room and laid her down on her berth, then pulled the chair over and settled in beside her. "I dunno what your nightly routine normally is... do you want a story or anything?"

She shook her head. Normally her uncle would read a chapter or so to her out of whatever book they were currently working on - they had been in the middle of i _The Last Unicorn_ /i before he'd left - and maybe sing her song to her afterward. But Swindle was no Thundercracker, and somehow it felt false and even a little hurtful toward her uncle to have someone else take over his nightly ritual.

"All right," Swindle relented. "But if you need anything, let me know, all right?" He pulled a datapad out of subspace. "And kid... things will be better tomorrow. I promise you that. Galvatron and Cyclonus might seem all mean and grouchy right now, but if we give them some time to get used to us and vice versa, maybe things will work out for the better. Give 'em a chance, okay?"

"'Kay," she said softly, though she didn't believe a word of it.

Wildfire hopped up onto the berth and curled up beside her, wriggling a bit to get comfortable before settling in with a gusty sigh. She draped an arm around his neck and pressed against him, glad that at least one mech who still cared for her was around. He might not be bright or even very nice, but Wildfire was the last of her family, and his presence was a shred of the comfort she so desperately craved right now.

She thought she wouldn't be able to sleep... but the events of the past day and a half had left her emotionally exhausted, and within minutes she was offline.

* * *

While Glory recharged, Swindle took the time to go over some of the paperwork he'd been neglecting over the past few weeks. War or not, change in leadership or not, business went on, and he couldn't exactly put his many ventures on hold just because he'd acquired a new responsibility. His customers were depending on him, after all.

He stole an occasional glance at Glory over the top of his datapad as he worked, watching her twitch slightly in her recharge. Not for the first time, he wondered how he'd managed to grow to like the kid. When she'd first stepped aboard the Nemesis, a shivering bright-opticed scraplet tagging along at Thundercracker's heels, he had dismissed her as beneath his notice, or at the very most a potential nuisance. And after she'd regained her courage and fallen in with Rumble and Frenzy - and got caught planting fireworks in Onslaught's room - he'd upgraded that to "definite nuisance." What she had the bolts to do to the commander of a team, after all, she could very well do to the rest of the team.

But when he'd caught her snooping around in his quarters for the first time, he hadn't been able to get upset with her. He'd found her curiosity adorable rather than annoying, and when she'd asked him questions about his business, he'd been more than happy to answer them. Maybe he was just glad to find someone who was interested in his schemes and ventures instead of immediately dismissive. Or maybe she was just too cute for him to be angry at for long. Either way, while his brothers had simply ignored her except at lessons, he'd allowed her to latch onto him as a teacher and a friend.

He'd never dreamed that befriending the sparkling would lead him to this situation, though - as her de facto guardian. He admitted that he'd fantasized about someday constructing a child of his own, but he never thought he'd end up in charge of a sparkling permanently. He'd never dreamed that something fatal could happen to Thundercracker. But somehow the impossible had happened, and Swindle found himself in the unlikely role of a foster parent to Glory.

 _This isn't gonna make Onslaught happy,_ he thought, biting his lip plate as he watched her sleep. _He ain't gonna like me having to drag her everywhere we go. But it's not like I got a lot of options. Forget what Cyclonus says, how can I just abandon her? She wouldn't last a cycle on her own..._

Someone rapped at the door. Swindle set his datapad aside and hurried to the door, opening it just a fraction.

"There you are!" Frenzy announced, glaring up at the Jeep-former with an irritated look. "You're hard to find when ya don't wanna be found. Whatcha doin' in here? This is TC's room-"

"Quiet!" Swindle hissed, and motioned Frenzy to come inside quickly. "You wanna wake the kid up?"

"Oh, right," Frenzy replied, toning his voice down a bit. "Sorry." He scooted inside the room, letting the doors close behind him. "How's she doing?"

"How do you expect her to be doing?" demanded Swindle. "She just lost her entire family - Thundercracker was like a father to her, and Skywarp might as well have been a second uncle. That's twice she's been orphaned now." He bent down and picked Frenzy up, setting him on the desk. "She just mopes, or cries, or hugs onto Wildfire like he's a giant killer teddy bear or something. I've been trying to cheer her up, but I might as well be trying to get Dead End to smile."

"Well, she ain't exactly unique in that respect," Frenzy pointed out. "Lots of sparklings have lost parents in the war, and most of 'em ended up in Shockwave's academy. Which may be where she's headin' now if Cyclonus gets his say."

"I want to avoid that if we can," Swindle replied. "TC wouldn't have wanted her to get a quick upgrade and be made into cheap cannon fodder. She deserves a better life than that, even if I have to hide her from Galvatron..."

"Whoa dude, cool your engine," Frenzy told him. "Why do you think I came here? To hear you run your vocalizer?"

Swindle blinked. "Why DID you come here anyhow?"

"To tell ya I found something."

"Found what?"

"Wavebreaker and Stormrunner."

"Who?"

"Duh, Skywarp's creators. Remember, I was gonna track 'em down for ya? Turns out they're still around, and they ain't far from here."

Hope flared in Swindle's spark at that. "Did you tell them about... Skywarp?"

"Yeah, and they weren't happy about it. He was their only creation, after all. But they've heard about Glory - guess 'Warp told 'em about her at one point. And they'd be willing to take her in."

"You're serious?" Skepticism cut in at that moment - Frenzy wasn't always completely honest, and while he didn't think the cassette would be so cold as to joke around about this matter, he couldn't be sure. "Glory's not even derived from their programming."

"So? Stormrunner says whether or not she shares programming with 'em, she'd look after her. She ain't sparkless, after all."

"What kind of mechs are they? They're not neutrals or black-market parts dealers, are they?" Knowing how Skywarp had turned out, anything was possible.

"Ain't you a pessimist," Frenzy snorted. "They're 'Cons, of course. Wavebreaker's a member of the 'Con Naval Forces..."

"We have a navy?"

"Oh, can it. 'Course we got a navy. We fight on water planets, don't we? Anyway, he's a boatformer, nice enough guy. Stormrunner's a Seeker, an' a flight instructor in Polyhex. No black marks on their records, no criminal pasts, everything checks out as normal. They just wanna know when we're gonna drop the kid off."

Swindle gave a sigh of mingled relief and disappointment - relief that Glory would have a safe sanctuary after all, but disappointment that said sanctuary meant she would shortly be leaving them for good. Glory might not have considered him family, but he had grown to care for the sparkling, and having her gone would leave a void in his life not easily filled again. And while he admitted that this was necessary to keep her safe, that didn't mean it was easy for him.

"Tell them we'll bring her by tomorrow at 1800," Swindle replied at last. "That should give her time to say her goodbyes and pack anything she wants to take."

Frenzy nodded. "Will do." He shifted his feet slightly, not looking particularly eager to go deliver the message. "Gonna miss the kid. Was nice havin' someone around close to our size."

"I know," Swindle replied. "Not the size thing... but it'll be awfully quiet around here without her." A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth. "Remember when you guys packed Megatron's cannon with glitter and confetti?"

Frenzy snorted again, this time with suppressed laughter. "Thought Megatron was gonna blow a fuse in his head. And remember that time she tried to bring an octopus into the base?"

"How can I forget?" Swindle chuckled. "It sprayed Reflector with ink when he tried to squish it."

"We should record these stories," Frenzy suggested. "So future generations of 'Cons can know how a sparkling terrorized our headquarters. She'll live on in legend as the terror of the Decepticons!"

"Ah, you just wait," Swindle told him, turning his gaze toward the sleeping femme. "She's going to go on to make us all proud. She may be a little mischief-maker now, but her uncle's taught her well. She'll be a fine Decepticon someday."

"Never doubted it for a second," Frenzy replied. "Hey, can a mech get a hand here?"

Swindle held a hand out for the cassette, letting him climb into his palm and lowering him to the floor. Frenzy headed for the door, then paused and turned to regard Glory a moment longer.

"Having second thoughts?" asked Swindle.

"Nah," Frenzy replied. "Just hopin' this ain't the last time we see her is all." He turned and left the room.

Swindle resumed his seat, though he didn't pick up his datapad again, opting instead to watch Glory recharge. If this was truly going to be the sparkling's last night among them... well, he'd rather not remember it as time he'd wasted on something else.

* * *

Alarms blasted through the base, jolting many mechs out of a pleasant recharge and causing others to start and jump wherever they stood or sat. After the first astrosecond's shock had worn off, training and hard-wired programming kicked in, and the Decepticons throughout the base snapped into action. Energon cubes, datapads, tools, or whatever else anyone had been holding were dropped and forgotten; holivids were left playing in rec rooms and personal quarters; comm calls were abandoned mid-sentence.

In Thundercracker's quarters, Glory was jolted out of uneasy dreams and straight into a nightmare.

"Uncle T!" she shrieked, clinging to Wildfire in a panic. She'd only ever woken up to alarms one other time - when the Autobots had attacked the labs. Cold terror gnawed at her internals as she huddled against the horseformer. They couldn't be attacking Shockwave's base, could they? She thought they'd won the last battle, that the Autobots' leaders were dead and Cybertron was safe from them forever...

"Glory, get up." That wasn't her uncle - it was Swindle, standing just beside the berth. "We've got to go. Stay with me, okay? I don't want us getting seperated."

There was an urgency to Swindle's voice that sparked a new sense of dread in Glory's fuel tanks. "W-what's going on?"

"Shockwave's sent out an evacuation order," the Combaticon replied. "I dunno what's going on, but we've got to leave the base. C'mon!" He reached out to scoop her up, but jerked his hands back as Wildfire bared his dental plates in a snarl, glowering hatefully at him. "Primus fraggit, I'm not gonna hurt her! Get back, stupid!"

Glory scrambled out of her uncle's berth and made for her own, grabbing a few of her prized possessions and tucking them into subspace - Dragon, a couple of datapads, and the blaster Megatron had given her over a year ago. "Is it Autobots? Are Autobots bombing us or something?"

"I dunno, kid," Swindle confessed. "I'm assuming we'll get more info once we're out of here."

She nodded and grabbed his hand, and Swindle led her out of the room and into the hallway, Wildfire close at their heels. Once out of their room she was grateful for the Combaticon's presence - the hallways were so packed and frantic with activity that she was sure she would have been swept away entirely were it not for his grip on her hand. Shouted conversation surged around her, just as wild and chaotic as the press of chasses rushing past, and she only caught occasional snippets of what was going on.

"Shockwave wants all fliers outside, stat! Some kind of space station..."

"...definitley not Autobot make, saw it with my own optics..."

"...of all times for Galvatron and Cyclonus to be gone! Where in the Pit are they anyhow?"

"Dunno, something about going after Ultra Magnus, guess he's default leader of the Autobots..."

"...look at the size of that thing! How are we supposed to stop that..."

"Swindle!"

Swindle stopped in his tracks, causing several mechs behind him to grumble irritably at the holdup. "Onslaught, what's going on?"

"Something big," the Combaticon leader rumbled, striding up to his smaller teammate. "Drop the child off somewhere and come with us. Shockwave wants the gestalts to assemble and try to hold it off."

"I ain't just dropping her off somewhere," Swindle defended. "I'm getting her out of the base and somewhere safe. If Shockwave's calling for an evacuation, whatever it is must be friggin' dangerous."

"The sparkling isn't your responsibility," Onslaught countered. "Drop her off with Shockwave or the cassettes for now. They'll see to it that she's safe..."

Glory shrieked in terror as the entire building jolted around them, knocking everyone off balance. Wildfire screeched and braced his legs apart to keep to his feet, and only Glory's arms around his neck kept her from falling over. Swindle yelped as he fell against Onslaught, who in turn stumbled against the wall. Other mechs staggered about as if overcharged or simply fell cursing to the floor, muttering in shock.

"What..." began Swindle.

 _"All units scramble NOW!"_ For the first time in Glory's memory banks, she could hear real panic in Shockwave's voice as it sounded over the intercom. " _Repeat, all units scramble! Non-combatants report to the shelters, everyone else defend Cybertron!"_

"What..." began Swindle, but another violent tremor cut him off.

"Get the sparkling to the shelters, then!" Onslaught ordered, bracing himself against the wall to maintain his balance. "Then report back immediately! We'll assemble and attack without you if we must, but if that happens, by Primus I'll make you pay for it later!"

"Yessir!" Swindle barked, then hefted Glory up in his arms and began to run. "Primus, he's a pain in the aft sometimes..."

"Swindle, are we gonna get blown up?" Glory whimpered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Of course not!" he replied sharply. "We'll get out of here, I promise..."

Their flight took them past a huge window overlooking the Cybertron cityscape, and anything else he had to say died in his vocalizer. Something HUGE loomed over the horizon - taller than any skyscraper, taller than any of the mountains of Earth or Mars or other organic worlds. It was something so vast Glory couldn't even take it all in without feeling a dizzy sense of overwhelming awe bordering on terror. Gleaming a metallic orange-gold like the flames of the Pit itself, it glowered down from on high with a scowling dead-white face and optics that burned with a venomous green light. There was a suggestion of skeletal wings behind it, and horns and claws and other details that faintly registered in her CPU, but she wouldn't recall those until much later. Now the only thing that held her attention was the impossible SIZE of the monster, the sense that it could crush Cybertron with the mere weight of its presence, never mind its strength.

"Creator of Sigma," Swindle croaked, his violet optics bright with horror.

Like twin green suns, the creature's optics slid higher into the sky as the metallic behemoth drew itself up straighter, its gaze sweeping across the planet's surface as if it were some terrible god passing its own baleful judgment upon Cybertron. Those eerie green optics rested upon Shockwave's tower, and for a horrible moment Glory felt as if the being were staring straight at _her,_ making optic contact for a brief but terrifying moment. She shuddered in Swindle's arms, but couldn't tear her optics away. Swindle, too, shivered as if experiencing the same sensation, and at his side Wildfire gave a strangled sound that was half-growl, half-whimper - the first sound of fear she had ever heard him make.

Then the massive being drew an arm back, bore its fangs in a hateful snarl, and began to swing. The entire sector around Shockwave's base fell into shadow as the continent-sized hand blocked out the sun.

Swindle cut loose with a string of profanity that would have greatly increased Glory's vocabulary had she been listening, and he pulled a gun out and fired at the window. Glass rained down on them in a crystalline hail, and Swindle stowed the gun before leaping out the window and into empty space. Glory screamed and clung tightly as they free-fell a moment, then gasped in relief as his anti-gravs kicked in and they went airborne.

"Wildfire!" Glory cried, clutching tightly to Swindle. "We gotta go back for him!"

"He'll be fine, he can fly," Swindle assured her. "Hold tight, I'm getting us out of here..."

The sound of groaning metal and snapping supports drowned out anything else he had to say, and they both turned to see Shockwave's tower crumbling apart. Great chunks of the building seemed to hang frozen in the air for a terrible moment, intermixed with smaller fragments of debris - glass, metal, datapads, energon cubes, even the bodies of mechs falling to their doom. With a growled curse Swindle blasted away, trying to outrun the collapsing tower, but he wasn't quite fast enough.

Something huge and heavy slammed against the Combaticon and the sparkling, knocking them out of the air and sending them hurtling toward the ground. Glory was offline before they even hit the ground.


	5. Prisoners

It was sound that returned first.

 _Sound always returns first,_ came the memory of Hook's voice, as a fragment of her lessons drifted through her CPU. _When a mech's systems come online after a shutdown, whether voluntary or accidental, the first sensory system to boot up is the auditory system. This is a preprogrammed safety precaution, as a mech just coming online is far more likely to hear an oncoming threat than to see it, even if his optics are fully functional._

How long ago had she heard that? Cycles? Vorns? She had no idea. Everything seemed so hazy, as if her time among Megatron's troops had taken place in another lifetime entirely. She could barely recall why she was here, lost in the dark, the faint groan of settling metal and a peculiar electronic chatter filling her audials, the tickle of tiny feet on her chest and arms and a steady pressure on her legs and torso.

She brought her optics online. A pair of tiny yellow optics stared fixedly at her, optics belonging to a glitchmouse that had perched on her chest and now sat back on its haunches to regard her. The creature blinked once, its rounded audial receptors flicking back and forth, then it fell to all fours and scurried down her side to investigate something else.

Glory raised her head, sending other glitchmice scattering in panic at the movement. Only the light of the little creatures' optics illuminated her surroundings - not that there was much to see. Warped and shredded metal penned her in on all sides, and a massive support beam pinned her body from the hips down. A live power cable sparked and hummed menacingly to one side of her, and somewhere behind her head fluid was falling in a steady drip.

Memory returned with the force of an impacting meteor, and she gasped and began shoving at the beam pinning her. That terrible monster... the falling building... Swindle and Wildfire... they had to be safe! She had to get loose and make sure they were okay! She couldn't - she _wouldn't_ \- lose anyone else she cared about. Not today!

Over and over she pushed at the steel beam, beating her fists against it, struggling to squirm out from beneath it. Pain flashed through her circuits, and her system readouts screamed that she was tearing wires and cables with her efforts. She whimpered in frustration as she struggled to shift the beam, fighting it until energon and oil spotted the metal from where fuel and fluid lines had ruptured in her hands and torso. And still she fought to escape, her efforts growing more and more desperate.

Finally she could fight no more, and she went limp with exhaustion. An alarm flashed steadily in her readout, signalling that she was desperately low on energy, but she could do nothing about it. She didn't even have the strength to vocalize a sob, though cleanser leaked from the corners of her optics in frustrated despair.

It wasn't fair. She was stuck and it wasn't fair. She'd worked so hard to escape, but nothing she did made any difference. It was just like the last time - she was trapped, hurt, and scared out of her mind. Except this time there was no Uncle T to rescue her and take care of her, no Skywarp to make sure she was okay. There wasn't even Swindle or Wildfire, for if the building had fallen on them too they couldn't be in any better shape than she was. She was alone.

For a long time she just lay there, silently crying, wishing this was all just a horrible nightmare. She didn't hear the ruins around her begin to shift, or the murmur of approaching voices. It wasn't until light suddenly flooded her prison that she realized something was happening.

* * *

 _What a mess,_ thought Rodimus Prime, looking over the ruins of what had once been Shockwave's tower. _Trust the Decepticons to leave us a mess to clean up in their wake. They can't even surrender cleanly, can they?_

Then again, he supposed it wasn't as if they'd planned this. Nobody had known such a monster as Unicron had even existed, let alone that it would attack Cybertron. This had been a freak occurence, a disaster nobody could have predicted.

With a sigh Rodimus walked over to where the Protectobots were clearing debris from around a communications tower, hoping to lend a hand. In a way, the Autobots could almost be grateful for Unicron's sudden attack. The swipe the monstrousity had taken at the planet had wiped out nearly an entire planetary sector - a planetary sector that had been home and headquarters to a large portion of the Decepticon army. With a single blow, nearly three-quarters of the Decepticon military and its officers had been destroyed, and those that had survived were in chaos in the wake of the devastation. Polyhex, Digilex, Kaon, and a dozen other Decepticon-controlled cities had been obliterated, and dozens more were heavily damaged. Add in the fact that Galvatron was off floating through the far reaches of space, meaning their foes had lost two leaders within the space of a few planetary cycles, and it was little wonder their forces were reeling in shock.

After so many vorns of fighting what seemed to be a hopeless war against their mortal foes, it had seemed almost insultingly easy to round up and capture the remaining Decepticon forces after Unicron's destruction. Not that any of the Autobots were complaining. Indeed, emotions were running so high after the retaking of Cybertron that the hardest task had not been arresting the remaining Decepticons, but in restraining their own forces from inflicting needless brutality on their captives. So many Autobots had suffered abuse at the hands of the Decepticons that it was very tempting for many of them to repay their prisoners in kind, and sadly there had been several cases already where they had discovered prisoners being tortured or even killed. The most Rodimus could hope for was that they were able to stop the worst from happening.

Hot Spot looked up from his work, spotted the newly instated Prime, and offered a friendly wave.

"How goes it?" Rodimus asked, moving to the Protectobot leader's side.

"Well enough," he replied. "It's going to take time to get this all cleaned up, but it'll get done." He brushed fragments of glass from his hands. "Any plans for what we're going to build here? Hopefully something beautiful to take away memories of Shockwave's optic-sore of a tower."

"We'll think of something," Rodimus replied. "For now let's just focus on getting the rubble cleared. Any sign of survivors?"

Blades snorted from his perch atop a snapped support beam. "What could've survived THIS?"

"You'd be surprised," Hot Spot told the flier. "But no, no sign of survivors. We ought to get a spark scanner here before too long, though, just in case. Wouldn't want to accidentally crush someone trying to get the debris cleared."

Blades barked in laughter. "You mean crush a Decepticon? Who would care?"

" _I_ would care, Blades," Rodimus told the helicoptor, infusing as much sternness into his voice as he could muster. "And you should too. Bot or Con, all survivors should be treated with respect."

"Huh," grunted Blades, narrowing his optics. "Never pegged you for a lousy Con-lover, Hot Rod-"

"Blades!" Hot Spot snapped. "Address the Prime with a little respect! And call him Con-lover one more time and I'll have your rotors tied in a knot!"

"Okay, okay, geez," grumbled Blades, hopping down from the support beam. "Primus, can't say a thing without getting my head bitten off..."

"Keep it up and I can have Grimlock bite your head off for real," Hot Spot warned him, then turned back to Rodimus. "Sorry about him. He's still a little sore that we didn't get called up for the final battle."

Rodimus gave a little shrug. "I don't think any of us realized we were actually fighting a final battle until it was over. So there wasn't exactly time to call in reinforcements."

"True. At least it's over for the time being. We can all relax a little now that the 'Cons are being rounded up and shipped off for good..."

Blades gave a high-pitched yip and dropped the sheet of metal he'd been lifting, dancing backwards a few steps as if he'd just seen a rust monster.

"What now?" demanded Hot Spot, turning around. "Scratch your paint, hotshot?"

"There's something alive under here!"

That caught Rodimus' attention. "A survivor? What sort of shape are they in?"

"I dunno, didn't get a good enough look," Blades retorted, bending down to lift the metal sheet again. "Aw, never mind, it's just some kinda animal..."

"Let me look," Rodimus ordered, and stepped closer. "Given the rise in mechs with beast alt modes, it might not be just an animal."

Blades gave the Prime an annoyed look, but he held the slab of metal anyhow. Rodimus and Hot Spot crouched low to inspect Blades' find.

There was a living mech under there, all right - a very angry living mech that snarled at the two Autobots as if longing to tear out their fuel lines. A crimson-and-gold mech shaped like an Earth creature - a horse, if Rodimus remembered correctly - it glared up at them with optics burning with pain and rage. Its entire body from the shoulders down was buried in rubble, leaving its forelegs splayed out at awkward angles, and its head and neck were badly dented and scuffed, but it seemed not to notice its own injuries.

"Some kind of drone, I think," Hot Spot noted.

"Drone with a bad attitude," Blades added. "I say we shoot it."

"Blades!" Hot Spot barked.

"Oh, come on!" Blades protested. "It's a drone, not like it's got a spark! Besides, might be the best thing for it. Put it out of its misery and all that..."

"Clear the debris from off it," Rodimus ordered. "Set your weapons to stun first; if it attacks we want to be ready. I doubt it's going to be in any shape to do so, but let's just be sure."

"Yessir," Hot Spot replied, and he thumbed a switch on his gun before bending down to dig the drone free. The creature whined and growled in obvious pain, but otherwise it just watched the Protectobot intently. Rodimus slipped his gun out of subspace, ready to fire should the drone break free and decide to charge.

He needn't have worried. As soon as Hot Spot lifted the last of the rubble way the drone scrambled to its feet, only to promptly fall as its damaged hindquarters gave out. Undaunted, it hauled itself back onto all fours, shook itself, and began to pace in circles, stumbling and whining the whole time. Briefly Rodimus wondered if it hadn't suffered a blow to the head during the collapse and suffered some CPU damage.

"What is it, boy?" asked Hot Spot, crouching down to put himself closer to the horse-mech's level. "What's got you all agitated?"

The drone gave a half-growl, half-whine, then lowered its muzzle to the ground and limped off.

"So much for a thank-you," Blades muttered. "We wasted all that effort on a brainless drone."

Rodimus frowned. There was something peculiar about the mech's behavior... almost as if it were searching for something. "Follow it," he decided finally.

"What? Why?" Blades gave Rodimus an incredulous look. "It's a drone, they're a chit a dozen..."

"Blades, do us all a favor and shut up," Hot Spot ordered. To Rodimus he asked "Do you think it could be trying to smell out something important?"

"Something... or someone," Rodimus replied. "It could be that someone programmed it as a guard. That could explain some of its behavior."

Hot Spot nodded, then motioned for Blades to follow and hurried off in the drone's footsteps... or hoofsteps, as it were. Blades followed, looking none too happy about it, and Rodimus brought up the rear of the unlikely parade of mechs.

They didn't have far to go - the horse-mech stopped at a huge support beam that had fallen during the tower's collapse, half-buried in debris. It sniffed along the beam, then drew to a halt and began pawing at the rubble, whining frantically.

"It's found something!" Hot Spot exclaimed. "Maybe another survivor!"

Rodimus hurried forward, braced himself against the beam, and pushed with all his strength. Despite the increased power the Matrix had given him, it wouldn't budge. Hot Spot jogged up and joined the Prime in trying to shift it, but it made no difference.

"It's no use," Rodimus groaned. "It's too heavy."

"You ever think of calling in a heavy lifter or anything?" asked Blades, a slightly snide edge to his voice. "It's not like you don't have a combiner team on hand or anything, right? Oh wait, maybe you do."

"Blades, if I hear one more word out of your vocalizer, I'll have you cleaning out waste oil tanks for a decacycle!" Hot Spot snapped. "Now stand there and shut up while I call your teammates."

Blades tilted his head in the Cybertronian equivalent of an eyeroll, but stayed put as Hot Spot radioed First Aid, Groove, and Streetwise. All the while the drone continued to paw and dig at the beam, whining and keening his distress. Rodimus felt a sudden urge to reach down and pat the creature on the head, to assure it that everything would be okay, but when he bent down and offered it a hand it just snapped and growled before going back to its frantic pawing. He decided that he preferred keeping his fingers over trying to calm the drone down.

"Think it could be one of ours?" asked Hot Spot. "A captive or something?"

"I doubt it," Rodimus replied. "I know Shockwave liked to keep Autobot prisoners on hand for his experiments, but I doubt he kept them at his tower-"

The horse-mech interrupted the Prime with a shrill cry, causing both Autobots to jump and whirl with guns raised. The drone glared up at them, then returned to his pawing with renewed vigor. It had uncovered something... and its find was shaped suspiciously like a very small arm.

"Primus on a stick," Hot Spot swore, and he stooped to help the drone clear away the rubble. "It's a sparkling!"

"It can't be," Rodimus protested, stepping closer. "Why would a sparkling be here of all places?"

Hot Spot lifted away a warped sheet of wall plating to reveal their find - and just as the Protectobot had said, it was a sparkling. A violet-and-silver femme with wide scarlet optics, she stared up at the Autobots with an expression of utter terror. Optic cleanser streaked her face, and energon and other fluids stained her hands and torso. Her legs were pinned under the support beam, and Rodimus could only imagine what kind of damage she'd sustained from that crushing weight.

The drone whinnied again and shoved past Rodimus, falling to its knees beside the sparkling. Relief swept over her features at the sight of the beastformer, and she wrapped her arms around its neck and tucked her face against it, crying anew. The drone pressed up against her as best it could, whuffing softly as if trying to make comforting noises.

"Aw Primus," Hot Spot muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "The poor thing. Drone must be her pet."

"She's hurt badly," Rodimus noted softly, having to wonder just a bit at how worried the drone seemed over its mistress. "Once we've got her loose I want First Aid to get her to our medical centers immediately. Then we'll track down her parents."

"Track down her parents?" Hot Spot repeated. "Prime, this is a 'Con sparkling. Even if it wasn't for the red optics, there's no way a 'Bot sparkling would be all the way out here. Her parents are likely dead by now."

Rodimus couldn't argue, though the realization made him slightly sick to his fuel tanks. "Then we'll find a home for her. It may not be too late to rehabilitate her."

Hot Spot looked rather doubtful of that, but he was saved from a reply by Blades showing up at that moment, followed by the other three Protectobots.

"Oh hey, you did find somethin'," the helicoptor-former noted. "Good, I'd hate to think we called up the others for nothing."

"A sparkling!" Streetwise exclaimed. "I didn't think there were any Decepticon sparklings left! Megatron had most of them upgraded in the final days of the war, didn't he?"

"Evidently he missed at least one," Rodimus replied. "But we can figure that out later. We need to get that support beam off her."

"Roger that, Prime," Hot Spot replied, saluting. "Protectobots, merge! Form Defensor!"

The sparkling shrieked in fright as the combiner team transformed, the various components connecting and shifting parts until a towering giant took their place. The drone scrambled upright, none too steady on its hooves but a determined glint to its optics. To Rodimus' amazement it situated itself between the sparkling and Defensor as best it could, dental plates bared and a vicious snarl rumbling in its chest. Not just a pet, he realized - the drone was her protector, and would take on even a gestalt if it thought she was in danger.

Defensor stooped, grasping the support beam in both hands, and with a grunt of exertion he lifted it off the sparkling and tossed it aside. Then he dusted off his hands and separated again, the Protectobots resuming robot forms upon touching the ground. First Aid was the first to move, hurrying to check on the sparkling.

"Her legs look bad," the young medic noted, kneeling beside her. "Pretty well crushed... it might be easier to replace them than to do a full repair-" Any further observations were cut off with a startled gasp as the drone snapped at his hands, growling even louder.

"Down, boy!" Hot Spot barked. "We're trying to help her!"

The drone's only response was to give Hot Spot a look of utter disbelief, snort, and then resume growling at the medic.

"Stop that!" he ordered, and he gave the drone a light smack on the rump.

That was a mistake - the moment his hand touched plating the drone came unglued. With a crazed shriek it transformed, assuming robot mode and drawing a wicked-looking scimitar. Hot Spot leaped back as the drone swung, the blade missing his midsection by a wire's breadth.

"Stop it!" Rodimus ordered. "Shoot to stun!"

"Stun, slag, somebody needs to put that thing down!" Blades protested, and reached for his gun. Thankfully Streetwise was quicker, and the drone staggered back as a bluish stun bolt caught it in the chest. It fell down heavily near the sparkling and went still.

"Wildfire!" That was the sparkling, her voice raw with pain and anger. "Wildfire! No!" She dragged herself to the drone's side and pulled him close, burying her head against him and sobbing anew.

"It's okay, little one," Hot Spot assured her, kneeling beside her. "He's not dead, just stunned. He'll come back online soon."

If she heard him, she didn't react. She simply tucked against her bodyguard and kept crying, not even reacting as First Aid began to gingerly probe her legs to assess the damage. Nor did she resist as the medic and Groove lifted the femme and drone and carried them away.

Rodimus knew they had done what they had to in order to protect themselves, but he still couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at what he'd ordered. Doubtless the femme's creators had been killed during Unicron's attack, and seeing her last living friend get shot down had to be sparkbreaking. Never mind that the shot hadn't been fatal - she didn't know that. For all she knew, the Autobots had cut her pet down right in front of her, and Primus knew if she'd ever forgive them for that.

 _And that's just going to make rehabilitating her all the harder,_ he thought darkly. _Though it's either that, or turn her over to the Decepticons. And somehow I doubt they'll be any kinder to her._

* * *

"And how's our patient doing?" demanded a voice that was far too bright and cheerful for comfort.

"Drop dead," Swindle grumbled, keeping his optics offline. "Let me roll over and offline in peace, why doncha?"

"Would love to, but sadly Perceptor says you're gonna be just fine once he's done with the final repairs," came the reply. "You're one of the lucky ones, apparently - most of the mechs we dug up were either deactivated or too far gone to patch up. You'll live to get shuttled off to one of the prison camps, I guess."

"Lucky me," Swindle muttered sarcastically, shifting his arms and legs as far as his cuffs would allow. "This day just gets better and better, doesn't it?" He cracked open an optic shutter to glare at his guard. "Any news on other survivors?"

Springer shrugged. "If we got any in, I'm not supposed to tell you. But out of the goodness of my spark I'll bend the rules a bit. You're the only one so far, but they haven't called off the search yet, so there's a chance we'll find one of your buddies and give you a cellmate."

Swindle shuttered his optic again, wishing he hadn't asked. The triple changer's news could be good or bad - either the others had managed to escape destruction and capture, or everyone was dead and he was the lone survivor. If it was the former, he doubted he could expect a rescue anytime soon, though Onslaught might surprise him on that note. If it was the latter... he might have been better off dead. Being the last Decepticon alive didn't exactly appeal to him.

Though if any Decepticon had survived that horrific collapse, he hoped with all his strength that it was Glory. He'd failed to protect her once. If he discovered the femme had died under his care, he would never forgive himself.

"You're awful quiet," Springer noted. "Normally you'd be snarking at me for hours on end and at least make this job interesting. When did you become boring?"

"Go frag yourself," Swindle suggested. "And shut up. Not in the mood."

"You miss your team that much?" Springer asked, sounding surprised. "Didn't think you 'Cons had enough of a spark for that..."

"Just shut up already!" Swindle snapped. "Friggin' Autobot... you don't see me taunting you about your dead Prime or anything, do you? So shut up about my team!"

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up," Springer complained. "Primus, what crawled up your tailpipe and died?"

Swindle had just opened his mouth to tell his guard just where he could stick his snide comments when the doors to the medbay hissed open, and two Protectobots rushed in with their arms full. His retort died in his vocalizer when he saw just what - or rather, who - one of them was were carrying.

"Glory!" he cried out, and would have sat bolt upright had he not been cuffed down to the berth. "Glory, you're alive!"

"Swindle!" Glory squirmed in First Aid's grip, faceplate contorted with pain at the movement. Swindle's optics fell on the mangled mess that remained of her legs, and he felt his fuel pump skip a few pulses.

"A sparkling!" Springer exclaimed. "Of all the things... where'd you find her?"

"Under some rubble and a support beam," Groove replied, depositing his burden on a nearby berth - Wildfire, Swindle realized, knocked offline but apparently still functioning. "She's hurt bad, though."

"Hurt?" Swindle demanded, shooting the Protectobot an angry glare. "What did you do to her? How bad is she?"

"Calm down, sir," First Aid said soothingly, as if addressing any other patient and not a Decepticon captive. "Her legs will need replaced, and she has some damage to her hands and hip joints, but those can be easily repaired. Her vital systems aren't in any danger." He gave Swindle a curious look. "Is she your creation?"

Swindle wondered if he should be divulging this information... but given that the two of them were Autobot prisoners now, he supposed it didn't matter a whole lot. "Her creators died in an attack on Polyhex. She was under Thundercracker's care until the battle at Autobot City. I've been looking after her since then."

Springer snorted. "Thought it was policy to ship sparklings off to Shockwave's academy."

"TC got Megatron to delay that in Glory's case," Swindle replied. Then a thought occured to him. "Shockwave's academy... was it destroyed?" Megatron had upgraded most of the remaining Decepticon sparklings on Cybertron in preperation for their final push against the Autobots, but several had been too young for the procedure and remained at the academy. If they had been destroyed as well...

"'Fraid so," Groove replied, "but the Aerialbots have picked up spark readings under the rubble. We're guessing the instructors and sparklings are in one of the bomb shelters under the academy. They've got crews digging them out right now."

Swindle blew out a sigh of relief. No one had ever dreamed that the Autobots would stoop so low as to attack a school, but Shockwave evidently hadn't trusted Autobot honor to extend that far and prepared for such an event. Of course he would have ordered the instructors to take the sparklings to the shelters at the first sign of trouble. He only hoped the Autobots would be merciful once they dug them out.

"Great, we're getting saddled with Decepticon brats," Springer grumped. "What are we going to do with them? Turn Autobot City into a daycare or something?"

"From what I understand, Rodimus wants to rehabilitate them," First Aid replied, settling Glory down on the berth with Wildfire - the two of them were small enough that they could share a berth without crowding each other. "Most of them are still young enough that with some education and training, they could make good Autobots."

"Wait, what?" demanded Swindle, sitting up as much as his bonds would allow. "You're gonna turn these kids into Autobots?"

"Well, what'd you expect us to do?" Springer retorted. "Keep them as Decepticons? Just what we need, little 'Con brats tearing up the base, or coming after us in our recharge to cut our fuel lines-"

"You've got to be out of your fraggin' processors!" Swindle snapped. "What kind of sick mechanisms are you, CPU-washing innocent sparklings like this, cramming your Autobot propoganda down their fuel intakes! You gonna reprogram them while you're at it? Wipe their processors and turn them into little clones of yourselves-"

"Watch your vocalizer, 'Con!" Springer growled. "And don't act all high and mighty on us. You Decepticons have done the very same thing. We know that it's not just Decepticon sparklings you've got in that academy of yours - Shockwave's taken neutral sparklings, even Autobots, and turned them into Decepticon cannon fodder. Why's this so different?"

Swindle glared at Springer, his CPU scrambling for a counterargument. Then he narrowed his optics as it came to him, and he spoke it aloud. "Then you high and mighty Autobots are no better than us. Chew on THAT and vent it out your tailpipe."

Springer lunged forward, grabbing the Combaticon by the neck. "Take that back, you exhaust-sucking glitch!"

"Whoa, whoa, Springer, cool it," Groove urged, frantically shaking the triple-changer by the shoulder. "We're supposed to be treating prisoners with respect-"

"Respect my aft!" Springer retorted, shoving Groove away. "I don't have to put up with this scrap-"

"Knock it off!" That was First Aid, and hearing the soft-spoken Protectobot raise his voice, let alone bellow like that, was so startling it shut all three mechs up.

"Knock it off," First Aid repeated, his voice softer but no less insistent. "You're scaring the femme. Springer, I suggest you get out now." And he bent down to try and comfort Glory, who had curled up in a tight little ball and was shaking badly, keening in distress.

Swindle gave Glory a pained look, wishing he could undo his cuffs and reach out to comfort her somehow. Instead he settled for glaring at Springer. "See what you did."

"Oh, shut up," Springer huffed, and stormed out of the medbay, nearly bowling over an incoming femme in the process.

"What's his problem?" she demanded, watching him go.

"The new patients are rubbing him the wrong way," Groove replied with a shrug. "What's up, Arcee? How can we help you?"

"There's been an announcement from Ultra Magnus." Her gaze moved to Swindle. "But I'm not sure if I should say it in front of the Decepticon."

"Want me to switch off his audials?" First Aid offered. The tone of his voice suggested he was trying to be humorous, but Swindle saw nothing funny about that kind of joke.

"Oh, just say it," Groove told her. "Not like he's going anywhere or gonna tell anyone."

She hesitated, then nodded and went on. "Apparently there's a new mech taking command of the Decepticons - someone called Cyclonus. And he wants any Decepticons we've taken prisoner back."

Well, THAT lightened Swindle's spark considerably. Maybe this Cyclonus character wasn't as arrogant and cold as he'd first thought. Even First Aid's next words didn't do much to dim his spirits.

"Well, we can't give this one back right away," the medic pointed out, gesturing in Swindle's direction with a wrench. "Decepticon or not, I can't let him leave medbay in this shape. Let me at least finish the vital repairs."

"What about the sparkling?" asked Groove. "Or sparklings, I guess, there's more than one now..."

"He didn't say anything about sparklings," Arcee replied. "But I'm assuming he'd want those back as well."

"Primus, that's not gonna make Rodimus too happy," Groove noted. "Still, maybe if this Cyclonus guy has something good to trade..."

"What have they got to trade?" First Aid wondered. "They've lost Cybertron, they've lost a good chunk of their resources... there's not a lot they can offer in exchange. What's their angle?"

"I don't know," Arcee confessed. "But I guess we'll find out. Once the Combaticon and sparkling are repaired, Rodimus wants them brought out to the main square. And you'd better hurry - Cyclonus is getting impatient."


	6. Exchange

"Is that all that's left of their army?" Springer asked, staring with amazement at the ragged collection of mechs that had gathered in the main plaza. "I mean, I knew Unicron did a number on them, but I had no idea it was _this_ bad."

"I think that's all of them that were left on Cybertron," Ultra Magnus confirmed. "There's bound to be others on Decepticon-occupied worlds, of course, but the bulk of Megatron's forces were here when Unicron attacked. And we captured some of the survivors, though most got away. Still... I'm surprised that this is all that's left."

Rodimus couldn't help but agree with Springer and Magnus as he watched the last of Cyclonus' troops touch down and assemble. Doubtless the Decepticon commander had hoped that by marshaling all his remaining troops here for the prisoner exchange, he could make a show of force and intimidate the Autobots into caving to his demands. The effort looked bound to backfire, though - granted, there were a couple dozen Decepticons gathered, but all looked battered and exhausted. Some were missing limbs, optics, or plates of armor, though whether that was because Cyclonus had ordered them to move out before repairs could be completed or because they somehow lacked the resources to fix themselves, Rodimus wasn't sure.

Cyclonus himself looked as if he'd been run over by a Dinobot, with deep dents in his armor and one horn ripped off entirely. Despite his damages, however, he continued to glare at the Autobots, his expression cold and cruel, as if he had the superior firepower here. Somehow Rodimus doubted Cyclonus actually had some kind of ace up his armguard, and he assumed that was just the mech's default expression.

"Rodimus Prime," Cyclonus said coldly, "you have Decepticon prisoners."

"A few," he acknowledged. "Combaticon Swindle, Stunticon Breakdown, Seeker Ramjet, and Decepticon Wildfire." There was some debate as to whether that last one actually counted as a Decepticon, seeing as Wildfire was a sparkless drone, but in the end they'd decided his temperament alone qualified him. "We're prepared to offer you a deal."

"We don't make deals with lesser mechanisms," Cyclonus snapped. "You will turn them over to us, or you'll suffer the consequences."

An unfamiliar Decepticon at Cyclonus' side, a bearded and clawed blue mech with weird batlike wings, grimaced at his commander's threat. It seemed even the Decepticons themselves were painfully aware that they were outmatched here, and that if Cyclonus pushed the Autobots too far it could result in them being turned to scrap very quickly.

"Before you go making idle threats, Cyclonus, at least hear us out," Rodimus replied.

"No trade until we check on our guy!" Brawl shouted, shoving past Astrotrain and Dragstrip as he worked his way to the front of the crowd. "Swindle! You okay?"

"Just friggin' peachy," came the reply from behind Rodimus - the Combaticon jeepformer was sandwiched between Grimlock and Snarl, with heavy energy cuffs around his wrists and a sour expression on his faceplate. "Nice to see you guys remembered me finally."

"We've been kinda busy!" Brawl snapped back.

"Shut up," Cyclonus growled, his glare fixed on Brawl now. The tankformer grumbled but slunk back.

"We have three of your mechs here," Rodimus replied, "and will bring out the fourth once we've decided on a deal." He paused a moment, both to ensure he had Cyclonus' attention and to prep himself for the likely negative reaction. "We also have a number of Decepticon sparklings in our custody. We're willing to return the prisoners to you if you leave Cybertron... and give up your claim on the sparklings."

Cyclonus didn't even hesitate. "Is that all? Very well. Deal."

The Decepticons erupted into angry shouts and chatter, vehemently protesting the deal. Cyclonus bellowed for silence, but his orders went mostly unheard. It wasn't until he pulled his gun and fired several times over their heads that they finally subsided, but not without an undercurrent of mutinous grumbles and whispers. Behind Rodimus, Swindle swore long and creatively, while Breakdown gave a high whine of dismay.

Rodimus, for his part, simply blinked in astonishment. He'd expected more resistance from the Decepticon leader. "Are you sure about this?"

"I said we had a deal, and I meant it," he replied shortly. "Sparklings are useless to the Decepticon cause - they are weak and worthless on the battlefield. We have no need for them. Keep them and return our warriors."

"My Lord Cyclonus," Onslaught cut in, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his tone diplomatic. "We need our sparklings every bit as much as we need our warriors. They are the Decepticons' future - where will we get new warriors if our sparklings are taken from us-"

"Silence!" Cyclonus snapped. "If you and your comrades are weak enough to fall in battle, we'll build new warriors to replace you. Do not question me again."

Onslaught glared at Cyclonus through a cracked visor, and even when the commander turned his back the Combaticon leader continued to glower, as if hoping to kill him with the strength of his stare.

"Then the deal is final?" asked Rodimus, not wanting to give Cyclonus a chance to reconsider. "You'll take your troops and leave Cybertron, and let us keep the sparklings? And you won't return later to demand them back?"

"It's final," Cyclonus replied impatiently. "Turn over your prisoners immediately."

Rodimus nodded and stepped aside. Grimlock shoved Breakdown and Ramjet forward, and the two of them stumbled briefly before hurrying toward the gathered Decepticons. Hook waved them over and began checking them for damages while Scrapper cut through their cuffs.

"Two down," Vortex noted. "What about Swindle?"

Grimlock bent down and shoved Swindle between the shoulders to get him moving. The jeepformer staggered, but once he regained his balance he remained where he was, jaw clenched and an angry glint in his optics.

"Swindle," Rodimus told him, "you're free to go."

Swindle glared at the Prime, then shook his head. "No."

"Return to your team, Swindle," Cyclonus ordered. "That is an order."

Swindle narrowed his optics. "I'm not going with you. I'm staying."

"Wait, after all that talk about how awful we Autobots are, you want to join us?" demanded Springer.

Rodimus arched an optic ridge. This was new. It hadn't occurred to him that any of their prisoners might want to switch sides, but if Swindle was so insistent...

"Is this about Glory, Swindle?" Onslaught demanded. "You'll give up your place among us and join the Autobots simply because of a sparkling that's not even derived from your programming; that you have no responsibility over?"

Swindle snorted. "I have no desire to join the Autobots. But if Glory stays, I stay. I promised Thundercracker I'd look after her, and the way I see it, I still haven't been released from that duty. And if that means remaining with the Autobots, even as a prisoner... then so be it."

Onslaught gave Swindle a long look, then nodded. Stepping forward, he spoke to Cyclonus in a tone too quiet for Rodimus to hear. Cyclonus scowled and muttered a reply, but Onslaught shook his head. Rodimus amplified his audials as much as he could, but still he could only pick up a word here and there, not nearly enough to piece together what they were talking about.

Finally Onslaught stepped back, and Cyclonus resumed speaking with an irritated frown. "I am altering the deal. You will give us one sparkling, the femme named Glory. Only then will we depart from Cybertron."

"He's not serious, is he?" Magnus murmured. "And we're really not going to hand over a sparkling, are we?"

In response Rodimus merely turned to First Aid. "Is there a femme named Glory among the sparkling survivors?"

First Aid nodded. "That's the violet femme we uncovered in the tower ruins. She and the bodyguard are fully repaired, though the drone's still offline until we decide what to do with him."

"Bring both of them out," Rodimus ordered. "Wait until the sparkling's on her way over before reactivating the drone."

"Rodimus, you can't honestly-" began Magnus.

"One sparkling as the price for the Decepticons leaving Cybertron for good is a far better price than restarting this war," Rodimus replied firmly. "Enough oil has been spilled. We have a chance to end it forever, and I'm taking it. We turn the femme over to the Decepticons."

Magnus frowned. "Cyclonus is NOT going to honor this deal. You know that as well as I do. He'll be back."

"Maybe... but he and his troops are hardly in any shape to challenge us," Rodimus pointed out. "At the very least, this will buy us time to secure Cybertron for ourselves and repair the damage Unicron caused. When Cyclonus breaks his end of the bargain and attacks, we'll be ready."

Magnus' frown didn't fade, but he made no move to argue. He simply stepped back and watched as First Aid led the femme out into the plaza, Hot Spot just behind him with the unconscious drone slung over one shoulder. The sparkling shook with fright and stared at the Autobots surrounding her as if they were hideous monsters, and the moment she saw Swindle she bolted for his side and hugged against him, tucking her head against his hip.

"You've got the kid," Springer muttered. "Now get."

"Suck a diode, Autobot," Swindle shot back, and he walked across the plaza to rejoin his teammates, keeping a slow pace to allow the sparkling to catch up.

"Don't forget the drone," Rodimus added. "Thing's too dangerous to keep, even as a prisoner."

Hot Spot nodded and lowered the drone to the ground. First Aid bent down, flipped a panel on the back of its neck open, and tweaked something in its wiring. Its optics flared to life, and it scrambled to its feet and bolted after Glory, practically shoving itself between her and Swindle. It twisted its neck around to give the Autobots a hateful glower before nuzzling against her like an overly affectionate turbohound. Despite her fear, she managed a smile and hugged it around the neck, murmuring something into its audial receivers.

"That's almost cute," First Aid noted, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Of course the 'Cons would give their kids a vicious pet," Blades grumbled.

Cyclonus just offered Swindle and Glory a disgusted look before returning his attention to the Autobots. "Be warned, Rodimus Prime. This is not the end. Cybertron belongs to the Decepticons, and we WILL return and take what rightfully belongs to us. This I swear."

"You and what army?" Blades demanded, cackling. Hot Spot shut him up with a firm kick in the shin, earning a glare from his teammate.

"Galvatron lives," Cyclonus replied coldly, "and he will return. Watch your back, Rodimus Prime, because sooner or later you'll find it in our sights." He turned back to his troops. "Decepticons, move out!"

Rodimus watched as what was left of the Decepticon army went airborne, rising above the war-scarred landscape of Cybertron and disappearing into the night sky. Only when the last straggler had vanished among the stars did he give the order for the Autobots to stand down and return to their duties.

First Aid was the last Autobot to go, still staring into the night sky. His mask and visor concealed his expression, but the tilt of his head and the hitch of his shoulders suggested something was worrying the young Protectobot.

"Something wrong?" Rodimus asked.

First Aid kept gazing up at the sky. "Did we do the right thing, sir?"

Rodimus sighed. "'Aid, I don't like letting them take the femme either, but if it meant getting the Decepticons off Cybertron-"

"Not that, sir," he replied. "I think... I think we did what's best for her, to be honest."

"You do?" asked Rodimus, arching an optic ridge. "Remember who we're talking about, First Aid. Decepticons. The oil-thirsty monsters who started this whole mess in the first place."

"I know, sir, but she's a Decepticon too. They're her family, and I think letting them have her back was best for everyone. I'm talking about the other sparklings - are we really doing the right thing with them? Separating them from their families like this and turning them into the very things they've been taught to fear all their lives?"

"It's not like we have a choice," Rodimus pointed out. "Would you rather we kept them as Decepticons, and harbored the enemy right under our olfactory sensors? Besides, all the ones left at Shockwave's academy were either captured Autobot or neutral sparklings, or Decepticons young enough that we can rehabilitate them without much trouble. Don't worry so much about it, all right?"

First Aid finally tore his gaze away from the sky to look Rodimus in the optic. "I can't help but worry, sir. You know I don't like to fight, but it's not just because I hate hurting other mechs. It's because I'm terrified that if we keep fighting, we'll end up turning into the very things we're fighting against. And stooping to the Decepticons' level like this... it makes me feel dirty. Almost Decepticon-ish."

"We're doing what's best for those kids," Rodimus replied, injecting as much confidence into his voice as he could. In his CPU, however, he couldn't help but wonder if First Aid had a point. He kept telling himself much the same, that this was best for everyone involved and that the Decepticons wouldn't miss a bunch of sparklings anyhow, but the nagging feeling that they were making a mistake lingered.

"I just don't know, sir," First Aid sighed, and he turned and walked off.

Rodimus spared one last look at the sky, but the Decepticons had already faded from sight. Briefly he wondered where they were going, and where they would call home now that Cybertron no longer belonged to them.

* * *

"Chaar?" repeated Brawl, twisting the word around in his mouth as if it was something disgusting. "Pit, even the name sounds horrible."

"You have the unique ability to make anything you say sound horrible," Hook muttered. "Hold still so I can finish your repairs."

"What's on Chaar that we're going there?" Vortex demanded. "If it was an energon hot spot or a Decepticon outpost, we'd've heard of it, right?"

"Haven't a clue," Swindle replied. "I'm just repeating what I heard. Don't shoot the messenger."

The Decepticons were crowded aboard Astrotrain - the shuttleformer wasn't nearly big enough to carry so many, but seeing as all the transports were either destroyed, missing, or in the hands of the Autobots, it wasn't as if they had much choice. The triple-changer now laborously made his way away from Cybertron, grumbling the whole way. Hook had claimed one corner of the passenger bay as a makeshift medbay and was doing what he could to patch up the wounded, but for the most part everyone just huddled together and miserably awaited whatever was to come.

"It only makes sense, I suppose," said Blast Off, idly tapping his fingers against his remaining leg. "We're no longer welcome on Cybertron, and most of the Decepticon outposts are now abandoned thanks to Megatron consolidating our forces on Cybertron - a mistake if you ask me. The humans had a saying about putting all one's chickens in one basket-"

"I thought it was eggs," Brawl cut in. "Eggs in one basket."

"No, it was counting one's eggs before they're hatched," Blast Off replied. "Trust me."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Brawl insisted.

"Enough!" Onslaught ordered. "Bickering over silly human phrases is pointless. I suggest everyone focus on conserving their energy for whatever awaits us on Chaar. We don't know what sort of threats we'll face there, and it may be we have to go in fighting in order to establish a base there."

"Oh joy," Vortex grumbled. "As if we haven't been beaten up enough already."

"Enough out of you," Onslaught ordered. "Any other news, Swindle?"

Swindle shrugged. "Cyclonus ain't the talkative type. Couldn't get anything out of him except that we had to get to Chaar and we had to find Galvatron. Nothing else."

Onslaught snorted. "I get the distinct feeling from our new commander that his loyalty is more to a single mech than to a cause." He lowered his voice until only Hook and the Combaticons could hear. "Watch yourselves. I've seen this sort of commander before, and the danger of working under the fanatically loyal is that they're perfectly willing to sacrifice anything, even and especially lives, to further their cause."

"You're suggesting that Cyclonus means to kill us all," said Hook with a raised optic ridge.

"I'm suggesting that Cyclonus wouldn't hesitate to send us on a suicidal mission if he thought it would aid Galvatron," Onslaught replied. "So indirectly, yes. I think he'll be the doom of us."

Brawl gave a maniacal little giggle. "The Bunny of Doom... that's funny."

"Please don't call him that to his face," Swindle groaned. "I'd rather not frag him off any more than we have to."

"Swindle has a valid point," Onslaught noted, nodding at the jeepformer. "For once. I advise... no, I order my team to have no more contact with Cyclonus than is absolutely necessary. Do nothing treasonous or insubordinate, but do not seek his favor, for I doubt you'll get it. If we're to survive this new leadership, we must keep our heads down and draw no undue attention."

"And if he orders us to do something that we know'll get us killed?" asked Vortex.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," Onslaught replied. "And Swindle?"

"Yessir?"

"I would advise utmost caution out of you," he warned. "Your stunt back on Cybertron has already drawn Cylonus' attention, and if you are serious about taking charge of Glory with Thundercracker's death, you'll continue to draw his scrutiny. Watch yourself, and keep her from angering him needlessly. He has already made it clear that he considers her nothing more than a nuisance."

Swindle nodded. "Yessir. I'll do what I can." His gaze moved to the corner, where Glory was huddled with Wildfire while the cassettes tried to cheer her up. "Though I doubt she's going to be in the mood for hassling him for awhile. Losing her uncle did a number on her."

Onslaught watched the sparkling a moment, and though his face was concealed from view, Swindle almost thought he looked sympathetic. "She will be a good warrior someday... but don't get yourself killed trying to protect her. At this moment you are more valuable to us than she is."

Swindle winced. He couldn't argue with that statement, but that didn't mean it was any less harsh. "Understood."

Onslaught nodded, then turned to go. Swindle waited to see if Hook needed his help, but when the Constructicon didn't ask for it he headed for Glory's corner of the ship. Maybe she wouldn't accept comfort at the moment, but the least he could do was be there for her.

* * *

Chaar was ugly. There was no nice way to put it. It was an organic world only in the loosest sense of the term, in that it was a rocky planet rather than a metallic one. Beyond that, it was utterly barren - no plants, no animals, no insects, no native living creatures whatsoever. Nor was there any surface water to be seen, or evidence that there had ever been any. The sky was a dark, drab gray-blue without a star to be seen, doubtless due to some quirk of the atmosphere, while the rest of the landscape was barren rock of the same unvarying shade of gray. The only interruption in the bleakness was a spot of violet metal touching down atop a plateau overlooking a jagged-looking expanse of rock and gravel.

Glory pulled Dragon out of subspace and clutched the toy tightly as she stepped out of Astrotrain, wincing as a cold wind blasted grit against her. It was like what one of Skywarp's movies had said - if there was a bright center to the universe, they were on the planet it was farthest from.

"It's even worse than I pictured!" Vortex grumbled. "This planet's dead!"

"It's a secure base of operations until we find Galvatron," Cyclonus replied sharply. "Everyone out of the ship. Scout the area. Motormaster, take your team and search for energy sources. Constructicons, find a site where we can begin building our base. Seekers, Sweeps, do aerial reconnaissance. Combaticons, remain here and stand guard. We don't know what lurks here."

While the Decepticons spread out to carry out Cyclonus' commands, Glory went to the edge of the plateau and sat down, dangling her legs over the side and gazing out at the rocky wasteland that was now home. Wildfire stood beside her, resting his head on her shoulder, and she absently reached up to scratch at the side of his face. At least one mech who loved her was still around.

She knew Swindle was taking charge of her now that her uncle was gone, and it wasn't as if she hated him - he had been her favorite teacher and the one Combaticon she had gotten along with. But it wasn't the same as having her uncle's calm, caring presence around, or Skywarp's friendly teasing. Or, if her memory banks went back far enough, the warmth and security of her creators, Piston's protectiveness and Windblade's boundless enthusiasm. Swindle meant well, but even she could tell that he wasn't at all sure about being a foster parent, and that he was fairly clueless about how to proceed.

And she missed her uncle, now more than ever. Were he still around, Cyclonus' presence might actually be bearable. She wouldn't like the purple mech any better, but at least Uncle T would have been there to protect her.

"Kid?"

Glory turned. "Rumble?"

"Kind of a depressing place, ain't this?," noted the purple cassette, moving to sit at Glory's side opposite Wildfire. "Least there's plenty of open sky. Good for flying, pretty sure you'd like that."

She shrugged. "I guess."

"You guess?" He stood up and reached up to press a hand to her helm. "You got a virus or somethin', kid? CPU overheating or somethin'?"

She shook her head. "Don't feel like flying."

Rumble sighed. "Kid, I know you miss TC. And I know things have been rough the past few days. But you can't be down about it forever. You got your whole life ahead of you still, and you can't spend it mopin'. Well, you can, but it'd be a frag of a boring life."

Glory hugged Wildfire's head to hers. "But I miss him... him and Uncle Skywarp... and even Megatron..."

"I know, kid," Rumble replied softly. He was quiet a moment, as if searching his CPU for something. "Your uncle ever tell you about the Well of All Sparks?"

She had to think about that for a minute. "A little... that it was the place all Cybertronian sparks come from, and where they go back to when they die. He said it was just a legend, though."

"That'd be a TC thing to say," Rumble muttered. "But hey, the legend had to start somewhere, right? It might even be true. In fact... I think it's true."

She turned to look at him, not sure if he was teasing her or not... but at that moment wanting to believe him. "Really?"

"Really, kid," he told her, smiling a little. "Which means your uncle might not be here in the chassis, but his spark lives on. And maybe he's watchin' you right now, from the Well of All Sparks."

For the first time in what felt like ages, a smile tugged at her lip plates. "And maybe I'll see him again?"

"Maybe," Rumble replied, "but not for a long time. Remember, you got your whole life ahead of you. And I'm sure your uncle would've wanted you to make him proud. To be a good Decepticon for him, and to live your life to the fullest."

Whether Rumble was truly speaking from his spark or just trying to make Glory feel better, his words filled Glory with warmth. It wasn't happiness, not exactly... but it was hope, a feeling she didn't think she would ever feel again. It didn't make her miss her uncle any less, but it helped to soothe some of the pain in her spark.

"Thanks, Rumble," she said softly, smiling a little.

"That's my girl," he replied, patting her arm. "Hey, since Cyc didn't give Frenzy and I any orders, want to go explore a bit? Maybe we can find a nice little hidey-hole to hang out or stash things."

"Okay." She stood and pulled herself onto Wildfire's back, nudging the horseformer after Rumble as the cassette hurried off to find his brother. She knew things wouldn't go entirely back to normal for a long time, if ever. But life did go on, and there was still so much to do and see, even on Chaar.


	7. Cyclonus

Vortex held a hand over his visor as he peered up into the starless, lead-colored sky... and at the starcraft that cut its way across the drab expanse. "C'mon, Astrotrain, land already... you can't stay in the air forever."

"Hah, watch him," Brawl grumbled. "He's the one with all the fuel. He could fly circles over us like a vulture for the next decacycle, getting overcharged and laughing at us while we starve down here."

"He could, but he won't," Blast Off replied. "It's difficult to drink energon when it's sealed in your cargo hold. And he knows that if he refuses to touch down, Cyclonus can order him shot down."

"Knowin' it and doin' somethin' about it ain't the same thing," Brawl pointed out. "Besides, this is Astro we're talkin' about. He ain't bright."

"You should talk," Vortex huffed.

Brawl growled at the insult, but he didn't bother to take a swing at Vortex. Not because he was feeling particularly charitable, but because he was too exhausted to bother.

"Okay guys, remember the plan," Swindle told them, hoping to keep the two attention-deficit Combaticons on task. "The minute he gets close to touchdown, we go in. We tell Astrotrain to open his cargo hold, grab what we can, and make a run for it. No stickin' around to fight with anyone else. You got it?"

"Who made you the boss?" Vortex snapped.

"Do you have any suggestions, Whirlygig?" Swindle asked, raising an optic ridge.

"No, but shouldn't Onslaught be runnin' this show?" Vortex retorted. "Last I checked, he didn't make you second-in-command..."

"Enough out of you," Blast Off snapped. "Onslaught is still damaged from that last fiasco of an energon run. And no, he didn't name a second, but at least Swindle knows what he's doing. I elect to follow him for the time being."

Vortex huffed. "Still think this would be so much easier if we could just intercept him from the air."

"Neither you nor Blast Off have the energy for sustained flight, remember?" Swindle reminded him. "I know it sucks, but we gotta work with what we've got."

Vortex didn't argue - he didn't like it, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Swindle loathed the situation as well, but complaining about it wasn't going to get them re-energized or secure the parts Onslaught needed for his repairs. Nor would it get them off this forsaken Pit-hole of a planet, or out from under Cyclonus' thumb. The universe had dealt them a rotten hand, but all they could do was play it to the best of their ability and hope for the best, or at least the least painful.

It had been almost a full Earth year since Unicron's attack and the great exodus from Cybertron. The Decepticons had withdrawn to the far reaches of the galaxy, some to Chaar to serve under Cyclonus' command and others to remote worlds to establish new bases and await new orders. The loss of both Megatron and Galvatron in such a short time, as well as the sudden and devastating attack by Unicron, had shaken the Decepticon Empire to its foundations, and they would feel the aftershocks for vorns to come.

At the beginning the Decepticons had clung to hope that this was only a setback, that Cyclonus would soon gather their forces and launch a new attack against the Autobots, taking their homeworld back from the usurpers. But as cycles passed and Cyclonus made no move to rally the Decepticons to battle, hope steadily waned. They eventually lost contact with their fellows throughout the galaxy - first the few cells of resistance on Cybertron, then the scattered outposts on other worlds. Whether said cells and outposts had been wiped out by the Autobots, they'd lost the resources to contact them, or Cyclonus had simply written them off as traitorous or useless, who could say? Even supply shipments had trickled down to virtually nothing, and the only incoming supplies or energon were what Astrotrain or Blast Off could steal or scrounge while on their "raiding runs."

Speaking of Astrotrain, the shuttle was finally swooping down for a landing. Well, maybe "swooping" was the wrong term. There was nothing graceful or polished about Astrotrain's touchdown - he wobbled and stuttered in the air, and when he finally did reach the ground he hit it hard and skidded for a few hundred feet. His cargo bay popped open on impact, scattering energon cubes in his wake.

"Move out!" Swindle barked, but the others had sprang out of hiding before he could even vocalize the words. They charged the battered shuttle, Blast Off bending down to scoop up the dropped cubes while Vortex and Brawl made for Astrotrain's cargo hold, determined to grab the larger share for themselves.

"Outta the way, Combati-runts!"

Swindle had been running out to join the others in the impromptu raid, but he yelped and leaped back as Motormaster stormed out of hiding, grabbing Brawl by the back of the neck and tossing him aside. The Stunticon reached into the cargo hold and scooped out an armful of cubes.

"Hey, those are mine!" Vortex yowled, pounding his fists against the larger mech's arm.

Motormaster scowled down at him. "Mine now, scraplet. Get lost."

"I was here first!" Vortex insisted, and yanked at Motormaster's arm. "Gimmie!"

"Hey Motor, what's the holdup?" barked Wildrider, bolting out from behind a rock formation. "Hey, ya picked up a space barnacle. Want me to remove it?"

"I got it handled," Motormaster growled, raising a foot and stomping hard on Vortex's ankle. The copter-former howled in pain and staggered back, clutching his leg. Satisfied, the Stunticon leader turned to leave... and staggered as Brawl charged him, striking him with enough force to send the energon cubes scattering in all directions.

Swindle grabbed the first cube to land at his feet, then dashed out to grab another. He wanted to be out of here before the ruckus attracted more raiders. With their spare parts and medical supplies down to almost nothing, he had no desire to get himself hurt. Not when simple repairs could be delayed for a month or more while Hook scrounged for a replacement part, or a major repair could mean limping around on a jury-rigged fix for who knew how long.

Blast Off finally filled his arms and took off running... only to run smack into Devastator's leg. The shuttle-former wasn't stupid - he immediately dropped his loot, deciding it would only hamper his getaway, and bolted. Devastator chuckled in satisfaction and bent down to collect his ill-gotten prize, only for Motormaster to catch sight of him.

"Stunticons!" he barked, throwing a beat-up Vortex aside. "Assemble! Form Menasor!"

"We ain't got the energy to-" began Dragstrip.

"Assemble, you dolts! We can't let Devastator get away with all the energon!"

Swindle decided to make do with what he had and not stick around for the inevitable fight - he took off running. Behind him he could hear Vortex and Brawl shrieking in terror as they tried to scramble out of the two gestalts' paths, as well as a pained curse from Astrotrain as one of the combiners kicked him out of the way. Either the shuttle was too damaged or too low on energy to attempt to flee, which was all the more unfortunate for him as he was kicked and knocked around as Menasor and Devastator laid into each other, their roars filling the air.

It wasn't until the sounds of the battle had faded behind him that Swindle finally slowed to a walk, trying to conserve his own energy stores. The two cubes he'd managed to snatch in the fracas weren't nearly enough for all the Combaticons, but they could at least make sure Onslaught and Glory were fueled. Brawl, Blast Off, and Vortex would have to make do with what they could scrounge once the combiners had finished settling their differences. That was a harsh way to think, and he knew it, but in these hard times there was little choice. It was survival of the fittest, pure and simple.

It was pathetic, Swindle thought, that the glorious Decepticon Empire had been reduced to this in so short a time - a band of mechs who were little more than savages, scavenging materials and energy, fighting one another like animals, looking forward to no other goal but surviving to see another day. Their numbers had dwindled alarmingly in the past year, some mechs shutting down from energy-starvation or lack of maintenance, others killed during raiding runs, and still others defecting to the Autobots or going neutral to save themselves. They were stranded on a dead world, with no energon stores and no natural resources to gain energy from, and their situation showed no signs of improving.

And to top it off, their leader was no Megatron - slag, he wasn't even a Starscream. As shrill and annoying as the Air Commander had been, he had at least managed to lead successful energy raids and hold the troops together during the times he was in charge. Cyclonus couldn't even manage that. Despite declaring treason and vowing revenge whenever yet another mech decided to seek his fortune off Charr, Swindle noticed he never carried out those threats. And though he sent troops out to gather energy and supplies every so often, he never led those raids. It was as if he thought such tasks as keeping their army powered, functional, and in high enough morale to keep them from deserting beneath him.

The only mission Cyclonus seemed focused on at all was finding Galvatron - but he set himself to that task with a ruthless determination that would have impressed Swindle had it not seemed so bullheaded and stupid. Cyclonus often left the troops to their own devices for days at a time while he searched for the vanished leader, only returning when he was out of energy and ready to drop with exhaustion. And he wasn't content with depleting his own energy on such a mission either - he would run the Sweeps ragged sending them on scouting missions, and he was not above demanding the Decepticons hand over any energy they did not absolutely require to remain alive in order to conduct yet another search.

 _He's gonna burn us all out if this keeps up,_ Swindle thought acidly as he balanced the cubes in one arm to make a climb down into a shallow gulley. _And that scares the slag out of me. He's so fixed on finding our precious leader that he'll drain us all to husks to do it. Why can't he see that there are more important things we need to worry about? Like saving our chassis? Like getting off this rock and finding a planet where we can actually survive?_

He shoved those thoughts ruthlessly aside for the moment. He hated the situation they were in, hated their leader's stubborn fixation on finding Galvatron, but there was little he could do to change things. He could only try to survive until things changed. Maybe, with a little luck, something good would happen to them. Maybe Motormaster or Razorclaw or another powerful mech would finally get sick of the treatment and overthrow Cyclonus. Maybe one of the outposts would re-establish contact and give them a place to retreat to.

"Maybe retrorats will fly," he muttered to himself as he kicked a stone out of the way.

"What are you mumbling about?"

"Nothin'," Swindle replied, looking up.

Onslaught snorted but didn't press the issue. The gulley deepened and opened up into a box canyon at its end, and it was here the Combaticons had made their base of operations until enough supplies could be scrounged to build a proper base. A few personal effects were strewn here and there at the base of the cliff wall, and someone - probably Glory - had painted an image of Bruticus on the cliff face as if to mark it as their territory. Onslaught sat on a crate in one corner, his left leg missing just below the knee and his left arm gone up to the shoulder. Before him, on another upturned crate, rested an oversized chess set, and Glory sat at the other side of the board, her hand on a piece as if trying to decide whether to move it or not. Wildfire lay curled up at her feet like a loyal turbohound, optics offline but ears perked up for any offending sound.

"How ya feelin', boss?" Swindle asked, walking up and handing him a cube.

"Like utter slag," Onslaught replied, "but this will help." He slipped his mask down just enough to take a drink. "Aah... so successful raid, then? Was Astrotrain able to secure some spare parts in the process?"

"Dunno," Swindle replied. "Every other 'Con swarmed in right as he landed. I didn't stick around."

Onslaught snorted again. "Barbarians. If some order isn't restored soon..." He let his voice trail off and lowered his gaze to regard Glory. "Haven't you decided on a move yet?"

"Almost," she replied. "I dunno whether to move this piece or this piece." She looked up at Swindle, and a smile crossed her faceplate. "Hi, Swindle."

Swindle couldn't help it - he smiled back. "Heya kid. You been good for Onslaught?" He went to a corner where he kept his personal belongings and pulled out an empty cube.

"Yeah. He keeps beating me at chess. I'm getting better, though!"

"I've long held the belief that every Decepticon should learn at least the basics of the game," Onslaught noted, drinking about half his cube before setting the rest aside. "Especially those in command. It's no substitute for learning proper battle strategy, of course, but it helps."

"Eh, more of a Monopoly kind of mech myself," Swindle said with a bit of a laugh, pouring half of the other energy cube into the empty one. "The one time I did play chess, Skywarp kicked my aft. That was a real blow to the ego. Hey Glory, hungry?"

"Yeah!" She quickly moved a piece forward and turned to take the half-full cube. "Haven't had energy for days!"

"None of us have, kid," Swindle replied, pulling up a crate and having a seat. "Don't spill it, all right? We dunno when the next batch is comin' in."

Glory didn't reply, only gulped most of the contents of her cube down, careful not to spill a drop. Swindle only sipped at his, wanting to make it last. It was sub-par stuff, but it would have to do.

"Did you get energy for Wildfire too?" Glory asked.

"Sorry, kiddo," Swindle replied. "You can give him some of yours if he needs it."

She looked down at what was left of her cube, a longing look on her face. But decency prevailed over greed, and she set the cube down for the drone, who roused at the smell and quickly claimed it for himself. "Can I go find the cassettes? I wanna see if they have enough energy for a game."

"Don't you want to finish your game with Onslaught first?" Swindle asked.

"Finished already," Onslaught remarked, moving a piece forward. "Checkmate, Glory. You would have done better moving the other piece."

"Awww," she whined, but she didn't seem as disappointed at the loss as she let on. "I'll beat you someday, Onslaught. Can I go now, Swindle?"

"Go on," he told her, making a shooing motion. "Don't go too far, and don't annoy Cyclonus or Scourge if you see them."

"I won't." And she dashed out of the canyon. Wildfire, seeing his charge taking off without him, practically inhaled what was left of his energy and hurried after her, stumbling a bit as he favored a damaged hind leg.

Onslaught watched the pair go. "Amazing how the young ones seem to keep their energy longer." He leaned back against the cliff, shivering a bit in pain. "Any word from Cyclonus?"

"Nada," Swindle replied. "He ain't back from his latest search yet."

"The fool," Onslaught grumbled. "He sucks us dry of energy so he can keep up this blasted mission of his, gallivanting about the cosmos while the rest of us starve here. If he isn't stopped soon, or if he doesn't find his precious leader, we'll all either drop dead of energon depletion or tear each other apart."

"I'm surprised one of the others hasn't made a power grab yet," Swindle noted. "I know Soundwave ain't happy with how things have turned out, and Motormaster and Razorclaw have talked more than once about cornering Cyc and pounding the scrap outta him. Why they haven't up and offed him yet is beyond me."

Onslaught's visor blazed with sudden realization, and he gave a sour, humorless chuckle. "Aah, so that's his game. Cyclonus is less a fool than I thought."

Swindle cocked his head. "I don't follow."

"He's not just sapping our energy to fuel his little crusade - he's staving off a revolution," Onslaught explained. "By keeping us weak, he keeps us from turning on him. He knows that even as strong as he is, he's not strong enough to single-handedly stop us should we band together to overthrow him. But if he starves us, keeps us at a fraction of our usual power, he can keep us under his control."

That hadn't even occurred to Swindle. But it made perfect sense... and the longer he thought on it the hotter his anger blazed. It almost would have been better had Cyclonus genuinely been clueless as to what effects his "search missions" had on the Decepticons, because at least then they would have known for sure that their leader was inept and needed replacing. But knowing that he was deliberately keeping his troops weak to prevent a coup was even worse. He found himself admiring Cyclonus' cunning even as he longed to grab him by the ears and snap his neck struts.

"Don't work yourself up in a rage," Onslaught advised. "There's nothing we can do about it anyhow."

"He's gonna kill us all off to protect his own aft and you're suggesting we do nothing?" Swindle snapped.

Onslaught glared. "Crippled or not, I am your leader, and I'm still deserving of a little respect," he retorted sharply. "But yes... for now we do nothing. We're all weak, and many of us are damaged. To stage a coup would be suicidal. We must be patient and bide our time. Sooner or later Cyclonus will err, and we must be ready to take advantage of his mistake."

"By that time we could all be dead," Swindle muttered bitterly.

"This cannot last forever," Onslaught assured him. "There will be an opportunity. This I promise you."

Swindle could only hope that was the case.

* * *

Glory found Soundwave's cassettes hiding behind a cluster of boulders, sharing a stolen energon cube between them. "Hey guys!"

Rumble jerked his head up, startled, but upon recognizing the intruder as Glory he smiled. "Heya kid, how ya doin'? Keep your voice down, okay? Don't wanna tip the others off that we got energy here."

"Okay," she whispered, and hunkered down behind the rocks with them and waving for Wildfire to join them. She'd seen the fights that broke out every time a new energon shipment came in, and she knew how hard it was for any of the adults to get energy. She had no desire to see the cassettes lose their hard-won energon to a bigger, stronger mech just because she'd gotten careless.

"Scrap, this stuff tastes awful," Frenzy grumbled. "Where'd Astro get it from, a tar pit?"

Ravage growled.

"Don't give me that 'be grateful for what you've got' slag, Rav," Frenzy huffed, passing the cube on to Ratbat. "I'll drink it, don't mean I have to like it."

"Why doesn't Astrotrain get it from a power plant like we used to?" Glory asked, settling down and hugging her knees to her chest as she waited for the cassettes to finish refueling. "That usually tastes okay."

"That was when a whole group of us would go out to raid together," Rumble reminded her. "When it's just Astro or Blast Off doin' the raid, it means they can't take risks by going someplace with a lot of guards or too close to Autobot turf. Kinda limits our options."

"Oh." She thought about that for a minute. "Why don't you guys go with them? You're sneaky, you could go in and get energy without anyone noticing!"

"Aww, you're sweet," Rumble told her. "But none of us are strong enough yet. Hard to go on a raid when you barely have the energy to stay online, let alone fight."

Glory nodded and waited as the cassettes passed the cube around, ensuring each got a share of the energy. She knew Swindle wouldn't be too happy to hear the cassettes telling her this kind of stuff - he did his best to shield her from everything that was going on. But she wasn't stupid. She could see the adults' condition for herself, and she knew the reason they were tired all the time couldn't be that they were just overworking themselves. She knew that Onslaught's missing limbs had gone unfixed for weeks, as had Dead End's slashed tires, Wildfire's broken leg strut, and the tears in Ramjet's wings. She knew they hadn't heard from other Decepticons for months. And even though Swindle always shooed her away whenever conversations got interesting, she overheard enough to know that no one was happy with Cyclonus at the moment... and that they blamed him for much of what was going on.

Knowing what was going on wasn't the same as being able to do anything about it, though. And it frustrated her to no end to see the Decepticons - especially Swindle, Rumble, and Frenzy - suffer when she was powerless to help them. Oh, she could try to brighten their day a bit and make them forget their troubles for a little while. Swindle seemed happier when he was teaching her or listening to her talk about her day, and she and the cassettes still found time for pranks, though they were careful not to target mechs with damages or who were in sour enough spirits that they would strike back if pranked. But she wanted to do something more. She wanted to help with the energon raids, or find a way to fix the others' damages. Something substantial, something more than being a temporary morale booster.

But there was only so much one could do when they were small, she supposed. She wished she could get her upgrade soon, if only so she could do more to help. But seeing as there weren't even parts to fix those who were hurt in the raids, she knew there was no way Hook had the parts for an upgrade of any kind. She would have to wait... and she hated waiting.

Laserbeak gave a squawk and nudged the empty cube away, and Rumble nodded and pushed himself to his feet.

"'Kay, we're ready," he noted. "Anythin' you wanted to do today, kid?"

She thought on that as she looped an arm around Wildfire's neck. "Is there paint still? I don't remember."

"Just white and black," Frenzy replied. "Why, thinkin' of givin' someone a new look?"

"Maybe." A thought occurred to her, and even though she knew it would get them in serious trouble if they were caught, a wide grin crossed her face. It wasn't as if the target wasn't deserving of it, after all, and even if it wasn't exactly constructive, it would help her and possibly others feel better about things.

"I've seen that look before," Frenzy said with a grin of his own. "Who we gonna give the zebra treatment?"

"Cyclonus!"

That wiped the smile off Frenzy's face. "Dude, kid, you got a death wish?"

"Aw, c'mon, 'Zee!" Rumble countered. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Hey, I'm all for adventure, I just don't want th' bunny-bot on my bad side! Remember what he did to Thrust when he mouthed off? What'll he do when he finds this out?"

"We make sure it don't get traced back to us," Rumble replied. "Don't be such a spoilsport, bro, this'll be therapeutic for us. Primus knows he deserves it."

"Please, Frenzy?" Glory pleaded. "Just once?"

Frenzy scowled, then blew out a sigh. "Fine. Just once. But I deny involvement if we get caught. And anyhow, Cyc ain't even back yet."

"So?" Rumble retorted. "That gives us time to plan, right?"

Ravage gave a snarl and scrambled to his feet. Wildfire, interpreting the cassette-cat's reaction as a sign of threat, hauled himself to his own feet, still favoring his hind leg but tensing to attack. Ravage didn't even look at the horse-former, though - his gaze was fixed skyward.

"Well, speak of the Unmaker," Frenzy noted. "Look who's back."

Glory didn't even need to look up to know whom they were talking about, but she lifted her gaze skyward anyhow. An angular lavender jet with forward-swept wings arced across the sky, leaving a white vapor trail as if slicing a gash in the sky as it flew. She couldn't help but grimace at the sight - not just because she wasn't fond of Cyclonus, but because his jet form looked so alien and ugly. It couldn't compare with the elegant lines of a tetrajet or the sleek, fearsome beauty of an F-15. And the commander might be a good flier, but he wasn't nearly as graceful in the air as Starscream or Thundercracker had been...

A pang filled her spark at the memory. She missed him. A year had dulled the pain of losing her uncle a bit, but she still couldn't think of him without emotion tugging at her internals. She missed his comforting presence, his calm voice, the thrill of the flights they had taken, the closeness she felt when they had their nightly ritual of a song or a chapter of a book before recharge. And more than anything, she wished he were here. He could have done something about this, could have stood up to Cyclonus or helped them get more energy.

"Oy, kid, you there?"

She shook her head. "Sorry... just thinking."

Rumble eyed her concernedly but didn't press the issue. "Let's go. We stashed the paint in a cave not far from here. Once Cyc touches down he's gonna want to recharge, and we can get him then."

"Okay!" That sounded perfectly fine to her. And seeing the look on their commander's face when he woke up in zebra stripes would at least help her feel better, if nothing else.

* * *

Blitzwing hated Cyclonus.

That wasn't anything too shocking - Blitzwing didn't like much of anyone. He'd hated Megatron and Starscream when they'd been in power, and he'd hated Galvatron for the brief time he'd been leader of the Decepticons. He didn't trust Soundwave one bit and despised Shockwave's bootlicking ways. The Seekers were all vain and arrogant wastes of metal, and the cassettes got on his sensors. The Constructicons, the Stunticons, the Combaticons, the Predacons - there wasn't a mech among any of those teams that he would give the time of day on a good day. Astrotrain was the only mech he got along with, but even his fellow triple-changer was an idiot on the best of days, and Blitzwing could only listen to him whine about being the Decepticons' packhorse for so long before he felt like punching him.

At the moment, however, Cyclonus was the focus of his hatred. And he savored it, letting it simmer inside him as he watched the lavender jet touch down on the rocky plateau that served the Decepticons as a landing pad. Anger kept him going where his energy failed, and served as the spur he needed to keep going, to keep from laying down and giving up when all else seemed hopeless. He might never make it off of Chaar alive, but if that was the case he intended to make sure Cyclonus went down with him.

He wasn't after the jet's position, really. Well, maybe somewhat - his last attempt to take over the Decepticons had failed, but just because he hadn't tried again didn't mean he didn't still harbor dreams of leadership. But at the moment he just wanted Cyclonus out of the picture. His cold, arrogant manner and the disdain he held for each and every Decepticon on this planet made every sensor in Blitzwing's body prickle with rage.

Cyclonus landed and transformed, striding briskly toward the triple changer. Blitzwing forced himself to keep a neutral expression on his face, even though his lip plates desperately wanted to raise in a snarl of disgust. At a time when every other Decepticon walked around with the telltale slumped shoulders and dim optics of mechs dangerously low on energy, Cylonus walked erect, optics bright and alert, looking as perfectly functional as he probably had the day he'd stepped off the assembly line.

If he even came off an assembly line - no one knew where their not-so-beloved current commander came from, after all. And while his origins were probably as mundane as any other mechs, there were rumors...

"Blitzwing, report," Cyclonus ordered.

 _Since when was I your second in command?_ Blitzwing wanted to snap, but he held his vocalizer. "No attacks, no accidents, no reports back from any of the outposts. Astrotrain returned from his raid an hour ago with energon but no additional supplies. Blast Off returned from his raid three days ago empty-handed."

Cyclonus scowled. "He will be disciplined for his failure, then. Anything else?"

Blitzwing bit back his caustic first reply - that Blast Off had failed only because he'd been so desperately underpowered that he'd had no choice but to flee when the Autobots at the medical facility had opened fire on him. Instead he reported "Autobots came sniffin' around two days ago, but they didn't shoot and they left pretty quickly."

"And you didn't kill them?" Cyclonus demanded. "They could have been gathering intelligence. It was your duty to destroy them."

"None of us had the firepower," Blitzwing growled, his temper finally cracking. "No energy to spare, no ammo for our weapons... what were we supposed to do, throw rocks? And the blasted 'Bots didn't do anything except point and laugh at our situation. Little fraggers."

"The next time Autobots show up, anyone who does not shoot them on sight will be regarded as a traitor and disciplined accordingly," Cyclonus snapped. "There are no excuses for failure. None."

Blitzwing fought to keep a smirk off his face. "What about your mission? Find any trace of Galvatron? Or was that particular mission a failure?"

Cyclonus either missed the sarcasm or elected to ignore it. "Not yet... but soon. Very soon."

"Why are we wasting energy on this stupid search anyhow?" Astrotrain humphed, limping up at that moment. "We barely have enough energon to survive as it is!"

"Our situation will improve once Galvatron returns," Cyclonus replied.

Astrotrain scowled. "Things were better when Megatron was our leader."

Cyclonus glared. "Galvatron is ten times the leader Megatron could ever hope to be!"

Blitzwing elbowed Astrotrain, trying to hint that now was not the time to get mouthy, but his fellow triple-changer never knew when to keep his yap shut. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Cyclonus yanked his gun out of subspace and thrust it into Astrotrain's face, pressing it against the bridge of his olfactory sensor so that Astrotrain was forced to cross his visual sensors to keep it in his sight. "One more word of treason out of you, and I'll vaporize your sorry excuse for a CPU. Understood?"

Astrotrain opened his mouth to give an angry retort, yelped in pain instead when Blitzwing stomped on his foot, and amended his reply with a growl. "Understood."

"Good." Cyclonus pulled the weapon away and stowed it. "I will recharge for the night, then in the morning the search resumes. We will need every Decepticon to give all the energy they can spare."

"Again?" Blitzwing whined. "We're droppin' offline right and left like it is! How many Sweeps you got left anyhow, huh? And anyone seen Reflector in the last few months? Or are we gonna come across his rusting corpses one of these days?"

"This shall be the final search," Cyclonus replied. "And we WILL find Galvatron tomorrow. This I can promise you. And you will all answer for your ineptitude when he returns." And with that, Cyclonus strode off.

Astrotrain promptly sat down on a rock, sighing deeply. "Thank Primus, he's seen sanity. He's giving up."

"I doubt it," Blitzwing replied. "He ain't gonna give up his search. Too thick-headed for that." He moved to another boulder to sit down, only to spot movement behind it. Some sort of animal? No, this planet had no native wildlife. That left only two other possibilities - or three if it happened to be both of them, which was more than likely.

"Glory, cassettes, come outta there," he grumped. "I know you heard the whole thing."

Glory slipped out from behind the boulder, one arm draped across Wildfire's shoulders and Ravage and Rumble slinking along at her side. She looked warily up at Blitzwing, as if trying to judge his current mood and determine if it was safe to stick around. Wildfire just glared up at him, as if daring him to come closer. Not that Blitzwing would have tried anything against her even if the bodyguard hadn't been around - he might not have liked Thundercracker, and he couldn't exactly say he liked the sparkling either, but he wasn't cold-sparked enough to take his anger out on a child. Even he had standards.

"Why's he so mad all the time?" she asked. "We didn't do anything wrong, did we?"

Blitzwing shook his head. "He's just a crank is all."

"And an idiot," Astrotrain muttered.

"Look who's talkin'," Rumble retorted. "An' if he thinks us cassettes are gonna give up any energon to him, he's got another thing comin'."

"Not like we could stop him if he really wanted energy," Blitzwing pointed out. "You know how he is - he's right and everyone else is a moron. And Galvatron is Primus and can do no wrong, and badtalking him's a mortal sin." He took great pleasure in lacing every word with sarcasm.

Glory hugged Wildfire's head close to her, making him snort a bit in protest. "I miss Megatron. I wish he were here."

"Yeah," Blitzwing replied. "So do I, kid." At least Megatron, as harsh a leader as he had been, hadn't been actively cruel. And at least he had some concern for his troops' welfare. Cyclonus seemed to view them all as tools - objects to be used until they wore out or broke, and then disposed of. And there didn't seem to be a thing they could do to stop him from doing just that.


	8. Alliance

Some trick of the acoustics of the canyon alerted the Combaticons to the intruder long before he actually stormed into sight. Wildfire awakened first, growling low in his throat, and that in turn roused Glory from recharge. She sat up and rubbed sleepily at her optics as the Combaticons began shifting and groaning, optics and visors coming online and joints creaking from inactivity. What was happening? It was still dark, and it didn't sound like there was a battle going on. Maybe Motormaster wanted her for an early lesson or something.

"Whozzit?" slurred Vortex as he pushed himself upright, his rotors all akimbo from sleeping on his back. "Where's th' fire?"

"I ain't good enough to tell who's coming by their footsteps," Swindle replied. "Whoever it is, tell 'em to get lost."

Onslaught raised his head to peer down the canyon, wincing in pain. "It's Cyclonus. And he doesn't look happy."

Glory barely suppressed a squeak of dread, feeling her fuel tanks turn to jelly. If it was Cyclonus, he must have found out who was responsible for... things. It had been stupid of her to think he'd never know, she realized - only she and the cassettes had the nerve anymore to prank anyone, let alone their commander.

"Oh Glory," Swindle groaned, "what did you do?" He reached out to put a protective hand on her shoulder, only for Wildfire to snap at his hand. "Oy! Stupid horse..."

"I was just trying to help everyone," she whimpered, scooting closer to Wildfire and tucking her face against his neck. "I knew people were angry with him, and I thought..." She didn't finish - all her good intentions felt rather useless at the moment.

"What did you-" began Blast Off.

Cyclonus stormed into view at that moment... and Brawl burst into wild laughter.

"Shut up," Cyclonus snapped, narrowing his optics at the tankformer.

"Oh Primus... nice paint job, boss!" Brawl cackled. "Looks good on ya!"

Glory chanced a glance at the Decepticon leader. The lavender and silver armor was gone, replaced with white from head to foot and decorated with stripes of black. The stripes on his head, arms, and torso were smeared and crooked, as if applied in haste, but she thought with just a hint of pride that his leg stripes looked particularly good. She'd taken care to do her part of the job well, even if the cassettes had been giggling too hard to care about doing quality work on their part of the makeover.

"I hardly think a sudden change in your paint job requires waking us up at some Pit-forsaken hour," Onslaught pointed out. "The Constructicons would be the ones to-"

Cyclonus strode over to the still-prone Combaticon commander and kicked him in his wounded shoulder. Onslaught curled up on himself, hissing in pain.

"What the frag was that for?" Swindle demanded, scrambling to his feet. "He didn't do anything wrong! Go kick the cassettes around if you need a punching bag, they're the ones that probably did this to ya!"

"The cassettes will be dealt with," Cyclonus replied coldly. "But they did not act alone."

Swindle's optics widened. "You can't prove that."

"I'm not stupid, Swindle. I know they had an accomplice in their actions. And the femme in your charge has gotten away with far too much lately. I expected you to keep her under control, but you've proven unable to handle even that small task."

"Sir, she's just a kid," Swindle countered. "Kids do things like that. She'll never do it again, I promise. Right, Glory?"

She nodded emphatically. She'd never go near Cyclonus again for anything after this, she promised herself. Why had she thought this would be a good idea anyhow? She had hoped it would make everyone feel better to see Cyclonus' pride dented a little, but instead she'd gotten Swindle and Rumble and Frenzy in trouble. She just hoped Cyclonus wouldn't punish them too badly, and that they wouldn't be too mad with her afterwards.

"If her sole function among the Decepticons is to raise havoc, she is worse than useless to us," Cyclonus said, his voice hard. "I will have no soldiers among us who are a needless drain on our resources, or who hamper our efforts-"

"Soldier?" repeated Swindle incredulously. "She's a sparkling! Not a soldier!"

Cyclonus ignored him. "As soon as this is repaired-" he gestured at his striped chest, "-the Sweeps and I depart to search for Galvatron. The femme will be kept locked up until I return, at which point Galvatron will decide what to do with her."

Swindle sputtered in protest. "You can't be serious!"

"As much as I agree this shouldn't have happened," Onslaught cut in, pushing himself upright, "I think the punishment is rather harsh. She repainted you, she didn't take your limbs off or reverse your thrusters. And she's only a sparkling. Surely that deserves some measure of leniency."

Cyclonus scowled. "You dare question my decision, Onslaught?"

Onslaught glared back. "I merely ask you to reconsider, Commander."

"I have considered enough." And he bent down to grab Glory.

She shrieked and tried to scoot away from him, but Wildfire was quicker. With an angry shriek he leaped to his feet and struck at Cyclonus, his forehooves tearing away barely-dry paint in sheets and leaving U-shaped dents in his chassis. Cyclonus didn't even flinch, but raised an arm and backhanded the drone as hard as he could. Wildfire went sprawling, only to scramble back to his feet and transform, scimitar in hand and a roar of rage tearing from his vocalizer.

"Stop fighting him, you're just fragging him off!" Vortex shouted.

"I intend to stop fighting him as soon as he's down," Cyclonus replied in a deadly cool voice, and as Wildfire charged he grabbed his sword-arm in one hand and twisted, snapping the cables in his wrist. As the drone screamed in pain Cyclonus aimed a foot at his damaged leg, and the already-fractured metal of the support strut gave way with a horrible CRACK. He lifted Wildfire by his injured arm and tossed him across the canyon as if he were a toy, and the horseformer hit the wall and collapsed in a heap, stunned and broken.

Glory screamed again and scrambled to her feet, ready to bolt to Wildfire's side and see if he was okay, but a powerful hand clamped around her arm before she could take so much as a step.

"Sir, you can't do this!" Swindle insisted.

"Do not defy me, Swindle," Cyclonus snarled, "unless you want to be branded a traitor as well as incompetent."

Glory kicked and writhed in Cyclonus' grip as he dragged her out of the canyon and stormed toward the ramshackle collection of metal buildings that was serving as a command center. She screamed every obscenity she'd ever overheard from the Stunticons at him, struck at him with her fists and feet, and even extended her arm spikes and slashed at him, leaving scratches in his new paint job. He responded to each blow with a brutal shake that left her dazed for a moment, but as soon as she recovered she kept fighting.

"Let me go!" she shrieked. "Please! I'm sorry, I'll never do it again, I'm sorry!"

"Somehow I don't believe you," Cyclonus replied, glaring down at her. "Someone needs to teach you respect... and if no one else is competent enough to do the job, I'll do it."

The chill in his voice, far colder than even Starscream could have managed, made her want to curl up and shake in terror. "Are... are you gonna..."

"I'm not going to offline you... yet," he went on, finishing her sentence for her. "But this is your final warning. If you fail to learn your lesson now, then Galvatron will deal with you. And he is not as forgiving as I am."

The command center sat at the base of the plateau that served as a landing pad, and off to the side cells had been carved out of the sheer rock face. Cyclonus selected one at random and shoved her inside, then without another word he shut the doors on her, sealing out the light.

Glory wanted to pound on the doors and scream, but all the will to fight seemed to drain out of her. She felt her way to the back of the cell and sank to her knees, curling up and sobbing in mingled fear and anger. No one had ever reacted this way to her pranks before. Sure, some of them had raged and chased her, but once their anger had worn off they'd simply cleaned up and continued on their way, seeing as her jokes never did any lasting harm. Cyclonus had acted as if she'd attempted to kill him in his sleep, and that confused and terrified her.

 _I... hate him,_ she realized. Hate was an entirely new feeling to her - she'd been afraid of mechs before, and had been angry at the Autobots for killing her family. But it was one thing to feel anger toward a faceless enemy like the Autobots, or to avoid Starscream or Mixmaster because they scared her or creeped her out. To feel such focused anger at a single mech, and a fellow Decepticon no less, was unfamiliar and should have been frightening.

Yet it wasn't. In a way, it felt empowering. Unlike fear, which only made her feel helpless, hate seemed to give her strength and the will to do something.

She shuttered her optics and leaned against the stone wall of her cell, letting her anger burn away her fear. Yes, Cyclonus had taught her a lesson today. She would never pull a childish prank on him again. But neither was she going to forget this incident. Nor would she forget everything else he'd done to the Decepticons. And she would find some way to make him pay for what he'd done.

Maybe she was too small to be helpful now... but she knew there would come a day when Cyclonus would suffer the consequences of his actions. And she vowed she'd be there to see it.

* * *

The instant Cyclonus and the Sweeps had taken off, Swindle turned to the mechs just beside him - Dragstrip, Breakdown, and the cassettes. "Okay, he's gone. Let's go."

"Go where?" demanded Dragstrip. "There's nothin' on this rock. It's the armpit of nowhere!"

"He means to go perform a jailbreak, stupid," Rumble retorted. "Get the kid out of prison."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" worried Breakdown. "If Cyclonus finds out..." His voice trailed off with a shiver.

"Look, Cyc said he's not coming back without his boss," Swindle replied. "And seeing as it's been this long without so much as an SOS from ol' Galvy, my guess is Cyc's never going to find him. And he can't find out what we've done if he never comes back, right?"

Dragstrip opened his mouth as if to protest, then grunted. "Huh... actually makes sense."

Swindle nodded, pleased that he had the Stunticon's cooperation for the time being. "Let's go. She's probably freaked out right now. I want her out of there before she's scarred for life."

"Little late for that," muttered Frenzy. He moved to take a step, and promptly fell flat on his faceplate. "Ow."

"Primus, bro, didn't think you were THAT much of a klutz," Rumble laughed.

"Hey, shut up," Frenzy snapped. He tried to push himself to his feet, only to collapse again with a grown. "Whoa... don't feel so good all of a sudden."

"Do we need to leave you behind?" asked Swindle.

"Frag, no," Frenzy protested. "We cassettes don't leave our partners in crime behind." He waved a hand weakly in the air. "Would appreciate it if someone carried me, though."

Swindle bent down to scoop the cassette-former up, only to lose his balance. He struggled to correct himself, suddenly giddy with dizziness, only to collapse in a heap.

"Watch it!" Rumble shouted, backing away. "Almost landed on me!"

"I couldn't help it!" Swindle retorted. "My systems feel all out of whack all of a sudden..."

"Oh Primus," whined Breakdown, and he promptly sat down on the spot, shaking in terror. "I can't even walk... Cyclonus must have infected us all with viruses while he was draining our energy!"

"Not viruses," Swindle realized, checking his energy levels. The readings confirmed his suspicions. "He just drained us almost totally this time. Left us with just enough to survive, but that's it."

Dragstrip managed a few steps before he, too, had to sit down, groaning in exhaustion. "Slaggit, is he trying to kill us all?" he muttered. "Finish what the Autobots started?"

"It's his way of keeping us from deserting or revolting," Swindle replied. "At least Onslaught thinks so. We can't run or fight back if we're too drained to even move, after all. He's making sure he's got an army to come back to once he's found his precious leader."

"And what if he doesn't come back?" Breakdown asked. "What if he gets killed or ends up searching for Galvatron for the rest of his existence? We'll all drop dead and rust here!" He was shaking uncontrollably now, each intake of air a high whine. "We're all gonna die here, we're all gonna die, we're gonna die..."

"Breaky, calm down," Dragstrip urged, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We're not gonna die."

"Oh, let Breakdown indulge in theatrics for once." That was Dead End, walking up at that moment. Well, maybe walking wasn't the right term - it seemed to take all his strength to drag first one foot forward, then the other, and he had to pause between each step as if mustering his energy.

"Don't you start, Dead-Head," Swindle ordered the morose Stunticon. "We're not going to die."

"On the contrary," Dead End insisted, "we are." He made his way to Breakdown's other side and sat down heavily, sighing as if in relief. "How much energon do we have left? Enough for a day, perhaps? Two? And when that runs out, what then? Oh, we can put ourselves into stasis to save our sparks, but even a mech in stasis lock can't remain like that indefinitely. Cyclonus is doomed, and sooner or later each of us is going to rust, our sparks winking out one by one. And the extinction of the Decepticons will be complete, our fire gone from the universe."

Swindle gave Breakdown a worried look, thinking this prediction would just send him into a new fit of hysterics. To his surprise, Breakdown just pulled his knees to his chest and looked off into the distance, seemingly at peace now that someone had agreed with his paranoid ramblings.

"We need a miracle," Rumble muttered. "Cyc's signed our death warrants. He drained Soundwave so totally he can't even get an SOS out. We need help, and we need it fast."

"Well, we're not going to get a miracle," Dead End replied. "If Primus exists, he seems to favor the Autobots over us. They have the precious Matrix, they have control of Cybertron, they have alliances with several key planets, including Earth..."

"And we have a dead rock of a planet, a leader who doesn't care if we function or deactivate, and nothin' else," Dragstrip finished. "Let's face it - we're all as good as dead. And no one's even gonna miss us when we're gone."

Swindle wanted to protest, to fight the predictions of doom coming from all around him. Yet he couldn't bring up a single counterargument. Dead End was right - they were all dangerously low on energy, and if Cyclonus never returned then it was only a matter of time before they started dying of energon depletion right and left. There would be no help from an Autobot-controlled Cybertron, nor from any Decepticon outposts - even if there were any left, there was no way to get a distress signal out to them. Even if another Autobot scouting party were to land on Chaar, they could expect no help from them. If anything, they would be quick to take advantage of the Decepticons' weakness to wipe them out.

He lowered his head to his arms and shuttered his optics, as if by doing that he could shut out reality itself. The Decepticons were facing their darkest hour... and they hadn't even a Matrix to light it.

* * *

Hope arrived in the form of a screw-shaped starcraft, arcing across the sky like a silver comet and touching down lightly on the blasted plain not far from the command center. It was a queer ship, one no one had ever seen the like of before, but it wasn't as if the rescued ever got to choose their saviors.

Blitzwing was too tired to think to be wary of the ship. Indeed, none of the Decepticons so much as budged when it landed and lowered its gangplank. If the craft bore a relief crew and supplies, all to the good. If it was an Autobot craft or an invading alien party... well, at least death would come quickly and relatively cleanly, rather than the drawn-out suffering of energon deprivation. And maybe their conquerors would want slaves... at least that would mean a steady supply of energy, even if they had to work their afts off for it...

Before his CPU could wander further down that road, a stocky being clumped down the gangplank. A rotund, bowlegged silver-and-violet mech with a bulldog sort of face, he peered at the Decepticons with stupid, piggish optics, as if trying to decide what exactly they were. Behind him trudged two identical mechs, their optics dim not with lack of energy but with lack of intelligence. And behind them, Blitzwing thought he could see taller, more exotic forms, but they hung back in the ship, as if not ready to reveal themselves yet.

It was the lead mech that held everyone's attention, though - for in his arms he held a stack of energon cubes.

Only the fact that Blitzwing's energy levels hovered somewhere around zero kept him from charging the mech, knocking him down, and stealing his precious cargo from him right at that moment. As it was, the sight of those cubes, glowing a vibrant pink and sending off waves of energy he could detect even from several dozen yards away, made him tremble with longing. Beside him, Astrotrain gave a plaintive little whine, like a sparkling begging for a treat.

The squat mech stooped, placed the cubes on the ground, and turned to clump his way back to the ship. His comrades deposited identical loads near the first stack and followed their leader back. The three mysterious mechs vanished into the ship, but the gangplank didn't rise. It seemed almost as if the ship's occupants were watching them, studying their reaction to this unexpected bounty.

"It's a rescue," croaked Mixmaster, sounding on the verge of tears. "Praise to Primus, we're saved! We're saved!"

"It's a trap," Hook warned. "Those aren't any Decepticons I've seen before... they don't even wear sigils. We don't know if those cubes are safe or not. For all we know, they could be poisoned or rigged to explode."

"All right, wise guy, go out and test 'em for us!" Rumble snapped. "And be quick, I'm starvin'!"

"We're all starving," Hook retorted. "That doesn't mean we have to be imbeciles about this. Mixmaster, go test them."

"What?" he gawked. "Why me? Why me?"

"You're the chemist, and you're the one claiming this is a fraggin' rescue," Scavenger replied. "Get to it!"

Mixmaster hemmed and hawed, suddenly sounding rather hesitant. "Well, uh... shouldn't we sent someone expendable? We still got a Sweep or an Insecticlone left?"

"Oh for the love of..." grumbled Motormaster, and he reached over and cuffed Dead End over the head. "Go out and test one."

"So nice to see my commander has my best interests in mind," Dead End noted darkly, but he pushed himself to his feet anyhow. He dragged himself one torturous step at a time toward the stack of cubes. Blitzwing wondered if Dead End was truly in that bad of shape, or if he was just playing the victim. He was personally convinced that at least half of Dead End's doom-and-gloom attitude was an act to get attention.

Dead End paused before the cubes, hesitated, then plucked the topmost one off the stack. When nothing happened, he pulled his mask down and chanced a sip. He held the mouthful of energy a moment, savoring it like a fine high-grade, then tilted his head back to let it trickle down his intake. Blitzwing watched, holding his fans, waiting for the Stunticon to deliver a verdict.

"Well?" he demanded.

"No poison, no contamination," Dead End reported. "It tastes like it comes from a fusion-energy plant. Highest quality." He downed the rest of the cube and snapped his mask back on, but not before Blitzwing swore he could see a grin on the Porsche's face. "It's safe."

Blitzwing lunged forward, putting the last of his energy into that single movement to get to the cubes before anyone else could. Pushing Dead End aside, he grabbed a cube and started drinking. His sluggish systems jolted at the sudden intake of pure energy, then stabilized and even began picking up to a level close to normal. Vaguely he could feel himself jostled from side to side as other Decepticons pushed past him to get their share, but he ignored them, all his attention now on getting the first proper refuel he'd had in orns.

When he'd polished off the cube he took a moment to take stock of himself. A full cube of high-grade energy should have been a shock to his systems, but curiously he'd never felt better in his life. Everything was functioning normally for a change. Even systems he'd long shut down to conserve energy, such as his weaponry, were back online and working without a hitch.

He reached out for another cube, figuring that so long as energon was available he might as well refuel to capacity - who knew when this chance would come again, after all. But movement from the ship made him pause.

They were being watched after all... and not by Cybertronians. Three forms hovered in the doorway of the ship, bulbous forms that looked almost like those ridiculous hot-air balloons the humans had back on Earth. But no hot-air balloon he'd ever seen had that sort of face - almost mech-like but not quite, with scowling eyes and the suggestion of fangs. Beneath them, a collection of tentacles writhed slowly, as if they were underwater. Despite their bizarre appearance, it was the eyes that unsettled Blitzwing the most - they were narrowed calculatingly, studying the refueling Decepticons like scientists watching animals feed.

Or, more disturbingly, like farmers sizing up stock for the slaughter.

Blitzwing drew his hand back, letting Thrust grab the cube he had intended to take. Suddenly he wasn't so sure he trusted their "saviors."

When the last cube of energon had been drained, one of the odd beings turned to his neighbor and bobbed as if nodding. The other nodded back, then drifted forward. The Decepticons edged back, wary, some reaching for their weapons.

"We hope you have appreciated this... gift," the being rumbled. "We Quintessons bring it as a peace offering, to show you we mean you no harm."

"Quintessons?" repeated Razorclaw, seeming to frown behind his mask.

"Quintessons," came the reply. "We come from our destroyed homeworld, Quintessa, to arrange a deal with you Decepticons. You are the only beings who can help us. You are our only hope."

The Decepticons murmured amongst each other for a moment. Then Soundwave stepped forward, assuming the role of leader for the time being. His gaze raked over the Quintesson as he sized the creature up.

"Explain," he ordered simply.

"Our proposal is simple," the Quintesson replied. "Unlimited energy, and repairs to your wounded... in return for the destruction of the Autobots."

At that, Blitzwing cracked up laughing. Soundwave turned to glower at him, and he tried to muffle his giggles with a hand.

"I'm with Blitz," Astrotrain replied, seeming to guess right away what had set his fellow triple-changer off. "Us, wipe out the Autobots? It's impossible! You might as well ask us to blow up every star in the galaxy!"

"Affirmative," Soundwave concurred. "Decepticon army's condition: substandard. Chances of successfully invading Cybertron: almost nil."

"Ah..." the being replied, and rotated in place to reveal another face, this one grinning widely. "But the Autobots - including their precious Prime - are not on Cybertron."

Soundwave paused, absorbing this information. "Continue."

"Rodimus Prime is on the planet Goo." A few Decepticons snickered at the name, but the Quintesson kept talking as if nothing had happened. "And only a small handful of Autobots accompany him. It should be simple enough to wipe them out, especially if we give you sufficient energy and repairs to restore you to full strength."

Soundwave seemed to process this a moment. Then he nodded. "Agreed."

"Wait, whoa, whoa!" Blitzwing protested, raising his hands. "Soundwave, have you slipped a cog? Cutting a deal with an alien race we've just barely met? And organics no less?"

"They look more like technorganics to me," Razorclaw noted.

"That's beside the point!" Blitzwing retorted. "The point is I don't trust these Quint-things. Not to the point where I'd risk my neck for 'em, at any rate."

"You're turnin' down an offer at unlimited energy?" Motormaster scoffed. "And a chance to wipe out those miserable 'Bots? Never expected that from you, Blitz."

Motormaster had a point, Blitzwing thought - under normal circumstances Blitzwing wouldn't have thought twice about such an offer. But there was something about these creatures that set off a warning in his CPU. It was like some long-dormant programming was starting to hum to life in response to these creatures, memories long suppressed by time and circumstance. Somehow he knew the Quintessons were hiding something... that they had other, darker motives, and that it would be folly for the Decepticons to have any sort of dealings with them.

"A'right, let's put it to a vote," Motormaster suggested. "All in favor of the deal?"

"Aye!" Almost every Decepticon present answered, including Astrotrain, to Blitzwing's intense disgust.

"All opposed?"

Blitzwing raised his hand. No one else even stirred in response.

"The ayes have it!" Motormaster shouted. "We're goin' to wipe us out some Autobots!"

The Stunticons whooped with glee. The Decepticons began chattering eagerly amongst themselves as they readied their weapons, hope shining in their optics for the first time in ages. They were not only fully powered, but they were finally going to see some action. And if they could avenge themselves upon the Autobots, so much the better.

"You're all idiots," muttered Blitzwing, turning to go. The others could go follow the Quintessons off a cliff, he decided. That didn't mean he had to follow them like a dumb sheepicron. He'd stay on Chaar awhile, and see if Cyclonus ever made it back. If he didn't... he'd decide what to do from there.

"Yo, Blitz?"

Blitzwing growled and turned around. "What do you want, Swindle?"

"Look, I know you don't like me," Swindle pointed out. "But if you're not coming with the rest of us, could you at least do me a favor?"

"I don't do favors."

"Then a deal maybe?" Swindle asked. "I can't stay on Chaar - Onslaught's demanding that all of us go with these Quint guys to deal the Autobots some pain. Could you... could you watch the kid for me?"

Blitzwing snorted. Of course he'd have to be the babysitter if he was left behind. "What's in it for me?"

"I don't have a lot to offer," Swindle confessed. "My business contacts all dried up after we lost Cybertron. But I promise I'll owe you a favor."

A favor. Blitzwing sighed in irritation. That was a rather vague and unpromising payment in exchange for having to keep track of the brat. But at least it would give him something to do while the others were gone. That, and he could always have something to hang over Swindle's head if he ever needed to.

"Fine," he huffed. "I'll look after the brat for you. But she'd better behave."

Swindle sagged in relief. "Cyclonus locked her up in the cell blocks before he left. Wildfire's outside her cell, but he's damaged enough that you can probably get by him without any trouble. Can you break her out?"

"What do I look like, a weakling? I can break her out. But then you owe me a BIG favor in return."

"Oh, of course." Swindle smiled. "You take care of yourself, okay? And of her. I'll try to blast a few heads for you."

"You do that. And bring me Springer's head on a plate if you can."

"Will do." And Swindle rushed off to join his teammates.

Blitzwing didn't stick around to watch the Decepticons depart, but transformed to his tank mode and drove toward the command center. Hopefully cooling her heels in the brig had sufficiently cowed the sparkling that she wouldn't be too much trouble under his watch.


	9. Galvatron

"Wake up, kid."

Glory moaned and tried to shut out that voice. She didn't want to come online, to face the real world again. Life was so much more pleasant in her realm of dreams, where her family was still alive and Megatron still led the Decepticons, where nothing hurt and no one was cruel to her.

"C'mon, kiddo, you gotta refuel. Your levels are down to zip."

She curled up tightly, covering her face with her arms. She just wanted to sleep, to dream about her uncle… to go back into his arms and know that there was still someone out there who cared about her. Dimly she could feel an alert buzzing in her systems that confirmed the voice's words – if she didn't refuel soon, she would go into shutdown. But she didn't care at the moment.

"Kid, don't do this to me," the voice ordered. "Don't die on me. Swindle'll have my neck." Something smooth pressed against her lip plates – an energon cube. "Drink, okay?"

Weakly she obeyed, opening her mouth enough to let a trickle of fuel in. A powerful arm held her and lifted her up enough to ensure the energon wouldn't go down her vents by mistake, while another steadied the cube as she lifted shaky hands to take it for herself.

"Atta girl," the voice said at last. "You'll be fine."

She brought her optics online and looked up at the mech who'd awakened her. Her vision was still hazy, and she had to reboot her optics a few times before Blitzwing's face came into focus. He wore a neutral expression as he watched her refuel – he wasn't happy, but he didn't seem upset either, which was fine by her.

She coughed abruptly as a mouthful of energon slipped down the wrong pipe, and she almost dropped the rest of the cube. Blitzwing caught it in one hand and slapped her back with the other, helping her clear her vents.

"Gonna be okay?" he asked.

She waited until her air cycles were back to normal before answering. "Yeah… I think so." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at the triple-changer. "Did you get locked up too?"

Blitzwing's visor flickered. "No, why? Oh wait… no, you're not still locked up, kid. I busted you out."

"Oh." She looked around, for the first time realizing it was too bright here to be her cell. They were out on the landing plateau, a dry wind brushing past and the planet's pale sun sinking slowly to the east. Blitzwing sat right in the middle of the plateau, as if not caring whether or not a shuttle or a Sweep would want to be touching down anytime soon, and Wildfire was curled up not far away, shivering with pain but fixing a steel-opticed gaze on the triple-changer, as if daring him to do anything to hurt Glory. There was no sign of any other mechs.

"Where's everyone?" she finally asked.

"Cyclonus is off looking for Galvatron, and everyone else went off chasing aliens," Blitzwing grumped. "Honestly, feels like I'm the only Decepticon left with any CPU."

"Even Swindle?"

"Yeah, even him." He set the cube aside and let her go, and she slid out of his lap. "Some freaks calling themselves Quintessons showed up, and they promised energy and repairs if we helped them kill off the new Prime."

"That's good, right?" Glory saw nothing wrong with that plan. The Decepticons were desperate for energy and parts, and seeing Onslaught and the others fully repaired would be wonderful. And if the Prime was gone, maybe the Decepticons could go back to Cybertron. This deal was a good thing as far as she could see.

"I dunno," Blitzwing muttered, sounding more as if he were simply talking aloud than actually addressing her. "Those Quint freaks… don't trust 'em. They look at us like we're property, not sentient beings. It's creepy. And the mechs they had with 'em are no better than drones. It's like they got their CPUs wiped or somethin'."

Glory couldn't suppress a shiver at Blitzwing's words. The Decepticons had been abducted by aliens, it sounded like! And the way Blitzwing described them, they sounded way too sinister for her comfort. Why Swindle would choose to make a deal with creatures like that and follow them on whatever mission, she didn't know. But it sounded as if he were heading into dangerous territory without knowing it… or worse, knowing it but not caring.

"We gotta go rescue them!"

Blitzwing snorted. "Us? One mech, a sparkling, and a broken-down drone? We wouldn't last an astrosecond. The Quints don't look too tough, but their goons could probably make paste of us. That and they seem to be sneaky buggers… probably got something nasty tucked in subspace that they're gonna surprise the others with."

"But we gotta do something!" she insisted. "Swindle's with them! And Rumble and Frenzy and the Stunticons! They could get hurt!"

"Kid, they chose to follow the Quints," Blitzwing reminded her. "If they get into trouble 'cause they were stupid, that's their problem. Besides, they're all tougher than you think they are. I'm sure they can handle themselves."

"That's what everyone said about Uncle T!" she cried, and despite herself she felt tears building up in her cleanser ducts. "Everyone said he was tough and strong and could handle himself, and he still died! I don't want Swindle to die! Or the cassettes or anyone else!" She wanted to say more, to vent the fear and anger building up in her chassis, but she only covered her face with her hands, trying to hold back the inevitable sobs.

Blitzwing sighed. "Primus help me, I'm not good with kids." He reached over and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Kid, please, don't cry, all right? I'm sure they're gonna be just fine. Just… stop crying, okay?"

She sobbed a few times before regaining enough control to speak. "I just… don't wanna lose anyone else… it hurts too much…"

"We all know that, kid," Blitzwing replied. "It's part of life, losing mechs you're close to. It sucks exhaust, but its something you can't avoid." He went quiet a moment, pondering. "If it makes you feel better, we can try sending out a message and asking if they're all right? They left enough energon for us to power up the communications array."

She nodded, wiping at her faceplate to clear away the overflowing cleanser. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to allay her fears. And perhaps they could give a warning to Swindle along with the message. The Combaticon was smart, he would be able to figure out what the Quints were up to, and maybe even twist it around to the Decepticons' advantage.

Wildfire snarled weakly.

"I'm just touchin' her shoulder, ya paranoid critter," Blitzwing snapped. "Don't short your matrix."

Wildfire snorted. "Not you," he growled. "Ships."

"Ships?" Blitzwing looked up, and his visor flared in surprise. "Slaggit… let's book it, kid, they're coming in for landing!"

Glory gave an involuntary shriek and scurried out of the way as the lavender jet swooped down toward the plateau, followed by the ungainly forms of the Sweeps. Cyclonus was back already! If he saw that she was out of her cell, she was going to be in so much trouble. And Blitzwing would probably get punished too for letting her out…

"Well? Where's the army you promised me, Cyclonus? Where are the Decepticons that I command?"

"Oh frag, he found him," Blitzwing muttered.

Glory squeaked in fright as a familiar mech touched down for a landing just beside Cyclonus, a violet mech with a tri-horned crest and an orange cannon on his arm. She remembered Galvatron from Starscream's coronation, and he had been so terrifying during that single encounter that she had hoped he was gone forever. No such luck, it looked like.

"They should be here," Cyclonus protested, transforming to robot mode. "It is possible they are in hiding. They're low on energy and shouldn't be able to go far…"

"I don't want excuses!" Galvatron shrieked. "I want my army! Now!"

Blitzwing stepped back, obviously wary of the violet mech, and Glory ducked behind his legs in terror. This wasn't the Galvatron she remembered – arrogant and ruthless, but also cold and calculating. This was a mech even more insane than Wildrider, his optics flashing erratically and his voice shrill with anger. He reminded her of a wild animal, crazed with pain and ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

"We will find them, my lord," Cyclonus replied, bowing to Galvatron. His expression was as stony as ever, but his voice had warmed a bit, as if finding Galvatron had finally improved his constantly bad mood a bit. The ice returned to his tone when he turned to address Blitzwing, though.

"Report," he demanded. "Something happened while we were gone, I know it. Where are the Decepticons?"

Blitzwing tilted his head back as if rolling his optics. "Wasn't my day to watch 'em."

"You dare talk back to a commanding officer?" Cyclonus asked, arching an optic ridge. "I didn't expect you to have a death wish."

"Enough!" Galvatron roared, striding forward and shoving Cyclonus aside. "I tire of these games! Where's my army?!"

Blitzwing held his ground, but Glory could feel a slight tremor pass through his body as she pressed up against the back of his legs in fear. "They took off after the Quintessons, sir."

"Quinte-what?" asked Scourge, frowning in confusion.

"Some weird aliens with tentacles and interchanging faces," Blitzwing explained. "Gave us energon and told us if we helped them wipe out the Autobots, they'd fix us and provide us with more energy. The rest of the 'Cons followed 'em, the idiots."

Cyclonus scowled. "Treason. Disobeying their commander and following another, one who isn't even our kind. They will pay for this, my lord." He turned to Galvatron. "They will ALL pay for this."

Galvatron frowned, the look of uncontrollable anger fading from his faceplate a moment. "Quintessons… so another race shares our goal. Perhaps they aren't so different from us."

Cyclonus looked puzzled. "Sir?"

"Where were these Quintessons going, Blitzwing?" Galvatron demanded. "Where were they taking MY Decepticons?"

"Someplace called Goo, sir."

"Then that's where we shall go!" Galvatron declared. "The Decepticons shall crush the Autobots, then crush the Quintessons for daring to steal MY army out from under me! And from there we shall conquer Cybertron, then the galaxy!"

Glory stared in amazement as white-hot sparks danced around Galvatron's helm, causing his entire frame to jolt for a few seconds. She didn't have to be a medic to know that something was seriously wrong with his CPU. Could the others see it? Blitzwing looked concerned, but Cyclonus either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Sweeps, Blitzwing, prepare to move out," Cyclonus ordered. "Set your course for-"

There was a horrific _thwack_ as Galvatron lashed out, backhanding the lavender mech. "Do not usurp my authority! _I_ give the commands here! _I_ am the leader of the Decepticons!"

Glory whined in fear and pressed her face to Blitzwing's leg. The small burst of satisfaction she felt at seeing the former commander get some of his own abuse heaped back on him was smothered by terror. This mech was worse than Cyclonus!

"What's this?" She could almost feel Galvatron's optics boring into her. "A pet? Some sort of miniature soldier?"

"That's Glory, sir," Blitzwing explained. "A sparkling."

"Glory…" Galvatron said the name slowly, turning it over in his vocalizer as if it were a word in a foreign language. Then he gave a nasty laugh. "Doesn't look all that glorious. What's her function?"

"Um… a sparkling?" Blitzwing replied, as if it should have been obvious. "She's not upgraded yet."

"And why not?" Galvatron demanded. "Are you telling me we're harboring a mech who's no use to us whatsoever? A waste of scrap metal is what her function is!"

"She was Swindle's charge before he abandoned us, Lord Galvatron," Cyclonus informed him. "Now that he is no longer here, we can be rid of her."

"Wait just a-" Blitzwing began, but reeled back as Galvatron punched him hard in the faceplate. He staggered back, leaving Glory exposed. She tried to run, but her legs felt frozen to the ground. She could only stare up in horror as Galvatron raised his gun-arm, aiming the weapon at her.

A high scream of rage tore through the air, and Galvatron staggered as a red-and-gold form barreled into his legs. His shot went wide, scorching a black line in the rock just to Glory's left. He flailed, trying to regain his balance, only for Wildfire to slam into him again. The horseformer trembled with rage, dental plates bared, optics wide and flaring angrily, audial receptors pinned flat to his head.

"Destroy it!" Cyclonus snapped. "Sweeps, destroy the drone! It's gone mad!"

"No!" Glory cried, and bolted forward, desperate to protect him... only for a heavy hand on her shoulder to hold her back.

"Kid, stay back!" Blitzwing ordered. "You'll get yourself killed!"

"I gotta save Wildfire!" she insisted, writhing in his grip. "I gotta! I don't want him to die!"

"He's doing what he was programmed to do," Blitzwing replied, his voice hard. "He's protecting you, even if it means giving up his life... whatever life a CPU-less drone has. You're gonna let him sacrifice himself in vain?"

There was a loud thud as Galvatron toppled over, and Wildfire transformed and lunged with a roar, wobbly on his broken leg. Cyclonus had his gun out but had yet to fire - Galvatron and the bodyguard were too close together, and a miss would ensure injury to his commander. The Sweeps just watched unhelpfully, too absorbed in watching the fight to lend a hand or to pay any mind to the triple-changer and sparkling.

Blitzwing took advantage of the confusion to scoop Glory up. "Primus help me, I don't know why I'm doing this." He turned and ran, fleeing for the path that led down the plateau.

Glory wriggled in Blitzwing's arms until she could peer over his shoulder… just in time to see Galvatron kick Wildfire off. The horseformer landed in a heap of limbs, his scimitar skidding away, and with a snarl he planted his hands beneath him and tried to push himself to his feet. Before he could do more than raise his head and chest, Galvatron had regained his own footing and aimed his cannon down at him.

She opened her mouth to scream a warning, but terror robbed her of her voice. She could only stare in horror as Galvatron fired point-blank into Wildfire's chassis. The horseformer shrieked in agony, thrashing, only for Galvatron to fire again and again, seemingly determined to keep shooting until he stopped moving.

Blitzwing finally reached the path and started down the plateau, moving as fast as he dared. Glory got one last glimpse of Wildfire, her beloved bodyguard raising his head one last time to lock optics with her. Somehow, impossibly, he looked happy in that final moment, and a smile crossed his faceplate before a final blast from Galvatron's cannon obliterated it.

She tucked her face into the crook of Blitzwing's neck and began to sob quietly, shivering. It wasn't fair. How much more was going to be taken from her? How much cruelty could Cyclonus and Galvatron pile onto the Decepticons before they could be stopped?

"Stop cryin', kid, you ain't hurt," Blitzwing told her, his voice gruff but soft. "You're gonna be okay. Wildfire saw to that." He paused at the door to the command center, then grunted and walked in. "You're gonna have to be tough from here on out, kid. It's gonna be the only way with those two in charge. Sorry, but that's the way it is."

She couldn't seem to get her vocalizer to form words, so she just nodded in reply.

"Now listen," he ordered. "Galvatron and Cyc are probably going to take off after the rest of the Decepticons, wherever they are. And they're probably going to make me go with them. While I'm gone, no matter what happens, don't leave the command center. Stay in here, and if you see or hear anything weird, you hide. Understand? You got a weapon besides your arm spikes?"

She started to shake her head, then remembered the gun she held in subspace – the last thing Megatron had ever given her before he'd died. "Yeah…"

"You can shoot, right?"

"Yeah... kinda."

"Well, if anything comes lookin' for ya that ain't me or Swindle or the cassettes, you fire at it, okay? Even if it's Galvatron or Cyc. Just keep shooting and run for it."

She shuddered at what he was implying. To have to shoot another mech, just as Wildfire had been killed… "But I'll get in even worse trouble with Cyclonus if I shoot him!"

"Trust me, kid." He set her down and shooed her in the direction of one of the back rooms. "With any luck, either Swindle'll be able to talk you out of trouble, or Galvatron'll forget all about you by the time we get back. Until then, just lay low. I'm sure Swindle'll figure something out, since you're his charge to look over for the moment."

She nodded. "O-okay." She didn't know why Blitzwing was suddenly being nice to her, but at this point she would take kindness wherever she could get it. "When'll you be back?"

"Dunno, kid… I doubt it'll be too long, though." He patted her shoulder. "Stay hidden for now. I'll leave you a few cubes in the main command center. Remember, only come out for me, Swindle, or the cassettes. Nobody else."

"'Kay." She huddled up in a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. "Blitzwing… thank you."

He grunted. "Welcome. Swindle's gonna owe me big for this, though…" He turned and hurried out of the command center, shutting the door behind him.

Glory waited until she was sure he was gone before resting her head on her knees, tears streaming down her face even as she struggled to keep her sobs choked back. Everything felt so hopeless now – Wildfire was gone, every mech she'd ever considered family was either dead or missing, the leaders of the Decepticons hated her and wanted her dead… and now she was alone and hiding from the very mechs she should have been able to trust. It seemed that every time she thought things couldn't get any worse for her, her life sunk to a whole new low.

She reached into subspace, trying to find Dragon. Even if it was just a toy, it was the only source of comfort she had left. Instead of the toy cyberdragon, though, she ended up drawing out a handful of datapads. She almost threw them aside, but the top one caught her optic – a scratched and dented datapad that bore, not a human book or one of her educational texts, but a personal journal.

The journal her mother had recorded, and that her uncle had given her before his death.

Wiping her optics clear, she activated the datapad. Despite the scuffs and cracks on the screen, she could still read the text. Maybe reading would take her mind off everything… and maybe having her mother's words so close, even if it was just words on a screen, would provide the comfort she so desperately craved.

* * *

By the time Blitzwing made it back up to the top of the plateau, there was no question whatsoever that Wildfire was completely and thoroughly deactivated. Pieces of the drone were scattered all over the plateau, some still sparking and smoking. The head was conspicuously absent, hinting that a rather messy headshot had been the final cause of death. Galvatron himself was spattered with energon and oil but looked unscathed, and Cyclonus looked on with an obvious expression of satisfaction. The Sweeps' expressions showed varying degrees of horror and disgust, but none dared speak a word against Wildfire's demise.

"Let this be a lesson to any who would dare oppose me!" Galvatron thundered, raising his fists to the sky. "They shall perish! Painfully!"

Blitzwing grimaced down at what looked to be a hoof, resisting the urge to kick it aside. If Galvatron was trying to make an example out of Wildfire, he'd done a rather bad job of it. Rather than being an example of how treason wouldn't be tolerated, the bodyguard's death was instead a testament of just how deranged and sadistic their new leader was. Galvatron wouldn't be the same sort of leader Cyclonus was – he'd be even worse.

Cyclonus glanced over at Blitzwing, as if just noticing he was there. "Where is the sparkling?"

"She's… gone." Let these two make of that what they would.

"She's gone?" Galvatron demanded. "She'll not trouble us again? Good work, Blitzwing!" He gave a cruel smile. "That's one less waste of energy among our troops!"

"What now, sir?" Blitzwing asked. "Where do we go from here?"

"To find the Decepticons, of course!" Galvatron barked. "To get my army back! And to destroy Rodimus Prime once and for all! He will suffer just as this traitor did!" He pointed at the scattered components of Wildfire.

"You will accompany us, Blitzwing," Cyclonus ordered. "We will need every available mech for this mission."

"Yessir." He despised having to take orders from the nutjob and the bootlicker, but for now he didn't have much of a choice. Besides, someone was going to have to warn Swindle about what had happened here, and it looked like it would have to be him.

"Decepticons, fly out!" Galvatron ordered. "Follow me!" And he took to the sky, Cyclonus close behind.

Blitzwing transformed to his jet mode and trailed after them, the Sweeps rising in formation just behind him. This new leader got worse all the time, it seemed. Under Cyclonus they had faced slow death by starvation… but under Galvatron it seemed they risked swift, painfully messy death by their leader's own hands. And with Cyclonus so fanatically loyal to the psychotic mech, they couldn't hope for him to pull a Starscream and get rid of him for them, either.

Idly he wondered if any of the other Decepticons would be planning some sort of coup now that they were fully energized and in better repair. Soundwave had always been loyal to Megatron, but somehow he doubted the tape deck harbored the same sort of loyalty to Galvatron. Astrotrain had never fully let go of his hope to overthrow Megatron and just might be plotting something against their current leader, but he didn't exactly have the best success rate. Hook, Motormaster, and Onslaught each had their teams to back them up should they decide to make a power grab, but so far none had shown any signs of wanting to seize the throne for themselves. Shockwave had vanished after the attack on Cybertron, but that didn't mean he was dead – he could be in hiding, biding his time and forming his own plot to take control.

"Blitzwing!"

Galvatron's shout jolted Blitzwing out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

"I said get your aft up front where I can see it, you idiot!" Galvatron barked. "Are you deaf as well as stupid?"

Blitzwing thought of a few witty retorts he could fire off in reply, but he decided he liked his head in one piece and on his shoulders. "Yes, sir," he grumbled, and moved up to take his place in front. He knew he was making a target of himself, but at the moment he didn't have much choice.

One thing was for certain when they finally caught up to the rest of the Decepticons, though – he was going to have to track down Swindle and tell him it was time Glory grew up for good. Whatever innocence she'd possessed before today had most likely been shattered anyhow, and she would be better able to defend herself from Galvatron's wrath if she were upgraded. That, and Cyclonus could no longer claim she was a useless waste of energy if she were useful to the Decepticon cause as a warrior. He had a feeling Swindle wouldn't like his suggestion, but if he had a lick of sense in his cranial unit, he'd listen.

* * *

_Every time Megatron broadcasts a message to Cybertron, he sends the call out for more soldiers, more recruits. He continues to push for family units to accelerate their sparklings' educations, to prepare them for adult upgrades that they might serve the Decepticon cause more readily. He says it's our duty to prepare our children for battle, that to ensure victory every mech, femme, and sparkling must be prepared and ever ready._

Glory had to pause reading to wipe her face again, wondering why she hadn't run dry on optic cleanser yet. At least these weren't tears of grief or fear, not anymore. Somehow, reading her mother's words made her feel as if she were here again, even if she didn't always write about the happiest subjects. It had been a long time since she'd felt truly happy, and she didn't want to lose that feeling now.

She'd lost track of the time, and wasn't sure how long it had been since Blitzwing had taken her here and urged her to hide – though she found she wasn't bothered enough about the time to check her internal chronometer. Reading her mother's journal had occupied her time, and she'd only paused a few times to refuel and recharge. If she stopped reading, she would have to think about the present… and she would rather have her mind in the past, remembering her creators and learning more about them.

Windblade hadn't just written about her private worries or the major events in her life, either – there were plenty of lighthearted memories recorded in here as well. Glory had found herself giggling at some prank her mother had pulled against her own creators or Thundercracker, or at the overcharged antics of her uncle, or Shockwave's reaction to Windblade changing every computer password in the labs to SHOCKWAVENEEDSAHUG. She wished Rumble and Frenzy were here so she could share these stories with them. They would have hysterics.

But the current entry dealt again with Windblade's private thoughts… and with Glory herself, even if she hadn't yet been created when this was written. She read on.

I can't help but be scared by this. It was never my intention to bring a child into this world with the sole intention of making a soldier out of her. I want my daughter to mature at a normal pace, to live a normal childhood, to enjoy some portion of her life as an innocent sparkling without the terrible burden of war on her shoulders. And more than anything, I want her to live to see peace restored to Cybertron. And if she is made a soldier as soon as possible... then I fear she will never see the end of the war.

Glory reached up to wipe her optics, only to find her cleanser stores had finally run dry. She had seen the end of the war, all right… but it hadn't ended happily. Windblade had no doubt imagined that an end to the war would mean their family could live peacefully on a Decepticon-controlled Cybertron. Glory couldn't help but wonder what she would have thought of the war's true end, with the Autobots ruling Cybertron and the Decepticons under the reign of a mad-mech.

She read on, clinging to every word. She read about the rediscovery of the Nemesis on Earth, and Windblade learning that her brother – Glory's uncle – was alive after almost four million years in stasis. She read about her activation, her days as a new-sparked, and her mother's thoughts and reactions to her antics. She read about her father, and idly wondered if he, too, had kept a journal, and if it would ever be found.

And she read about her mother's decision to keep her a secret from her uncle.

_We have decided not to tell Thundercracker about Glory. It hurts that I can't trust my own co-creation with this information... sorry, that was a bad choice of words. I know I can trust him - Primus knows he's kept enough secrets for me over the vorns. (As far as I know, he has still kept silent about the petrorabbits being released in the Astronomy Labs back at the Academy, for which I'm eternally grateful.) But I fear that, with my brother so close to Megatron, it will only be a matter of time before some word of Glory reaches Megatron's audials, even by accident. I won't have my child forced to become a soldier... and I won't have my brother forced to choose between his family and his commander. It wouldn't be fair to him._

Primus forgive me this... and Thundercracker too, if by some chance he ever reads this. I never meant to hurt anyone. My only wish is to protect Glory.

No wonder Uncle T had been so surprised to see her, and had been so awkward and distant around her at first. For the first time, she understood some of the struggles her parents and uncle had gone through to keep her safe, and to ensure she had a proper sparkling-hood. And for the first time, her uncle's attempt to send her away a few years ago made sense. He had risked being punished for treason to keep her from being upgraded too soon, even if it had meant sending her to live among the neutrals. Even with Windblade gone, he had been willing to sacrifice all to make sure her wishes for Glory were carried out.

The next entry was the last – and it cut off in mid-sentence. Had the memory chip been corrupted? But when she checked the date of the entry, she realized the truth. Her mother had been writing in this journal the day of the attack, and been fatally interrupted in the middle of the entry.

Her optics burned, though no tears came, and she hugged the datapad to her chest. There wasn't going to be a miracle – her parents and her uncle weren't going to magically come back to life. But somehow, she felt as if her mother had returned to her through this journal. It was as if some part of her had come back to life within Glory, giving her a measure of her presence.

"Thank you, Mom," she whispered, hoping Windblade could hear her in the Well of All Sparks. Maybe she hadn't had the childhood Windblade had hoped for her, but she would always treasure the time she had. And she would always be thankful to her creators and her uncle for all they had done for her.

One thing was for sure, though – she was going to work as hard as she could to make her family proud of her. It was the least she could do in return. Whatever happened from here on out, she wanted to make sure their efforts to raise her right hadn't been in vain. She would be the best possible Decepticon she could, however she could do it.

Tucking the datapad back into subspace, she curled up in her corner and settled in for recharge. Once the others returned, she would find Hook and tell him she was ready for her upgrade. Then she would show Cyclonus that she was hardly weak and useless… and honor the memory of Piston, Windblade, and Thundercracker.


	10. Upgrade

_Well, this didn't go anything like we expected,_ was all Swindle could think as he stared at Blitzwing, who had his weapon leveled at a startled Galvatron's head at that moment.

To be honest, Swindle hadn't had too many expectations regarding the mission. As far as he knew, they were simply going to follow the Quintessons, destroy Rodimus Prime and anyone with him, and take Cybertron back for themselves. Simple as that. Granted, he'd had his suspicions that the Quintessons had their own designs and were planning on stabbing the Decepticons in the back at the first opportunity, but he had been fairly confident that he could ferret out their plan before they put it into action and find a way to turn it against them.

He hadn't expected Cyclonus to show up with Galvatron and Blitzwing in tow. That alone would have been enough of a shock, since everyone had pretty much given the violet Decepticon up for dead. But even if some had thought there was a chance Galvatron was still functioning, they hadn't expected him to return with a full-blown case of insanity, or for him to attack his own troops in a psychotic rage. Nor had they expected him to start raving about some Decepticon Matrix of Leadership, whatever that was, and lead the way back to Cybertron to crush the Autobots there once and for all.

Most of the battle was still pretty hazy, to be honest. It was like there was a blank stretch in his memory banks, as if someone had erased an entire chunk of the battle. Whatever had caused it, it seemed to have affected most of the other Decepticons as well – anyone Swindle talked to after the battle complained of something similar.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the Quintessons had tried to take Cybertron for themselves in the middle of the battle. Swindle wouldn't have been surprised if they proved to be the cause of the memory loss among so many of the Decepticons. At least having an insane commander had come in handy at that point – upon learning of the Quintessons' duplicity, he had quite literally chased them off the planet, bellowing obscenities and threatening to rip them to shreds. Then Galvatron had turned his rage onto Rodimus Prime, ready to slaughter him on the spot.

That had resulted in the biggest surprise of all – Blitzwing pulling a gun on their commander.

"This has to end!" Blitzwing snapped. "Now!"

"He's gone crazy!" hissed Vortex.

"Which one?" asked Swindle. "The triple changer or the commander?"

"You know what I mean!" Vortex retorted. "Blitz is off his rocker! He's gonna get pummeled! Or worse!"

That same thought seemed to have crossed Blitzwing's CPU at that moment, because his visor flared in sudden fear. He kept the weapon trained on Galvatron, though, finger tightening on the trigger as he awaited the violet mech's reaction. Cyclonus, in turn, had his own gun aimed at the triple-changer, ready to take him down at a moment's notice.

Galvatron's stunned expression melted into a snarl of rage. "Such treachery I expected from my other troops, but not from you, Blitzwing!"

"Shall I strike him down, my Lord?" asked Cyclonus. "Or leave the privilege to you?"

A look of maniacal glee crossed Galvatron's face at that, but it quickly passed, and an eerie calm seemed to settle over him. "No… I have another fate in mind for him."

Swindle felt his internals clench, and he stepped back involuntarily.

"Blitzwing, you are hereby banished from the Decepticons," Galvatron announced, optics narrowing hatefully. "If I see your sorry chassis again, I will scorch the life from it and mount it on my wall. Begone from my sight!"

Incredibly, Blitzwing relaxed at that, lowering his gun-arm and the tension visibly running out of his body. Swindle wondered how he could be so happy about being kicked out of the Decepticon forces… but then again, given what Cyclonus had put them through for the past year, maybe being exiled wasn't such a punishment after all.

"Decepticons, retreat!" Galvatron ordered. "Return to Chaar!"

"Combaticons, prepare to go," Onslaught ordered, coming up behind Swindle and Vortex at that moment. "Swindle, patch up any damages among our team."

"Galvatron's not gonna like us lagging behind," Vortex reminded him.

"Galvatron can either wait for us to be in full repair, or wait while the injured among us lag behind on the way back," Onslaught replied crisply. "Let our new commander learn patience."

"I don't think that's a word in his vocabulary," grumbled Vortex.

Someone grunted behind Swindle, and he turned to find Blitzwing gazing down at him. The triple-changer waited just long enough to be sure he had the Combaticon's attention before speaking.

"We need to talk about the kid."

Swindle felt his fuel tank jolt. "She's not dead, is she?"

"No," Blitzwing replied. "She's holed up in the command center back on Chaar. Galvatron blew her bodyguard to bits, though. Nutcase."

"Primus," Swindle groaned. "Does the kid know?"

"Know? She saw it happen. It was her Galvatron was trying to off, but the drone attacked him and bought her time to get away. Went down fightin'."

He felt his spark sink in his chassis. "What are we gonna do? If Galvatron's going to target the kid…" He couldn't finish.

"I dunno what _you're_ gonna do," Blitzwing retorted. "But I know what I'd do the moment I got back if I was allowed back. I'd get her upgraded. The sooner the better."

"Upgraded?" Swindle rebooted his optics, as if that would change what the triple-changer had said. "She's just a kid, though!"

"She ain't going to be a kid much longer, Swindle. She ain't exactly innocent anymore – she knows what Galvatron's capable of. An' Chaar's not exactly a place for sparklings anyhow. The way I see it, you got two choices – upgrade her now, or wait until Galvatron takes a potshot at her in a rage. And trust me, he'd do it. The mech's not sane."

Swindle couldn't exactly argue with that. Even from the brief glimpses he'd had of their leader so far, he knew Galvatron was practically a ticking time bomb, and the littlest things had the potential to set him off. Cyclonus was at least somewhat rational, though his calculating cruelty was just as bad, if not worse. With those two dangerous mechs in charge of the Decepticons, no one would truly be safe… but Cyclonus already saw Glory as useless and a nuisance, and Galvatron must feel the same way if he'd attempted to offline her back on Chaar.

As much as he hated to admit that Blitzwing was right, he had to agree that Glory would be safer with an adult mode than a sparkling's fragile chassis. Not only would she be stronger and more durable, she would be better able to defend herself if Galvatron attacked her. And more importantly, Cyclonus could no longer claim she was a drain on the Decepticons' resources. She would actually be able to aid the Decepticon cause directly, which would not only mollify their leaders but fulfill what Glory had been wanting for so long.

That didn't mean he had to like it at all, of course. He knew Thundercracker had wanted her to develop normally and not be rushed into adulthood, and under normal circumstances sparklings of less than a vorn old were in no condition to be upgraded. But these were not normal circumstances, and he knew if the choice was between the upgrade and certain injury or death, Thundercracker probably would have chosen the upgrade.

"Fine," Swindle relented. "I'll corner Hook when we get back and see what he can do."

Blitzwing nodded. "You do that."

"Swindle, move your aft!" Brawl snapped. "Galvatron's gonna have our heads on pikes if we don't scoot soon!"

"I'm coming, hold your horsepower!" Swindle retorted. He turned back to Blitzwing. "Um… thanks. For keeping her safe."

Blitzwing grunted. "You still owe me, Swindle. And I WILL be coming back to cash in that favor."

He nodded. "What'll you do now?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Rodimus Prime offered me a place with the Autobots, but I don't feel like playing traitor to my entire kind, even if Galvatron sees me as one. I told him I'd think about it."

"Keeping your options open?"

"More like keeping things so they don't ask too many questions if I go nosing," Blitzwing replied. "No way I'm actually joining them. Figure I'll poke around the underground, see if the Decepticon resistance cells are still active here. Worse comes to worst, I'll go off-planet and find one of our outposts, or a neutral colony. Just 'cause Galvatron doesn't want me on Chaar doesn't mean I have to abandon the cause entirely."

"Well… whatever you do, take care of yourself, okay? With Vector Sigma and all our sparklings in Autobot hands, we can't afford to lose too many of our troops."

"Will do. And you look after yourself too. Don't frag off our beloved commanders too much."

Swindle watched as Blitzwing turned away, transforming to jet mode and soaring up into the sky, moving in the opposite direction that Galvatron and his troops had taken. Then he sighed and went to rejoin their team. It seemed the Decepticons couldn't catch a break at all. They'd just exchanged a cold-sparked commander for a psychotic one, and somehow he got the feeling that Blitzwing's departure from their forces, however involuntary, was just the beginning. Who knew how many mechs would decide serving Galvatron wasn't worth it, and seek their fortunes elsewhere?

* * *

Glory started awake as the doors to the command center hissed open. Someone was coming… and the footsteps approaching her hiding place weren't Blitzwing's heavy steps. Was it Cyclonus or Galvatron, come to finish her off? Or an Autobot intruder? Somehow she doubted the latter would be much kinder to her than the former.

Instantly alert, she groped for her gun, remembering what Blitzwing had told her. She only hoped she would have the courage to shoot if she needed to. She had never shot at a living target before, and the thought of taking a life, even in self-defense, still chilled her…

"Kid?"

She squeaked in relief and dropped the gun, scrambling to her feet. "Swindle!"

"Oh phew, you're safe." Swindle ducked into the closet and knelt down to her level. "You're not hurt, are you? Blitzwing told me what happened-"

She flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Did the Quintessons get you? What did they want? They're not still here, are they? What did they look like? And did you see Galvatron? He's freaky! He tried to shoot me, and he shot Wildfire and…" She would have teared up at that point, but her cleanser reservoirs were still dry, making her optics burn with emotion.

"Whoa, slow down," Swindle urged her. "The Quints are gone, kid. They tried to use us to take over Cybertron, but Galvatron chased them off. And yeah… he's pretty frightening. We're going to have to be very careful from here on out." He patted her back. "I'm… I'm sorry about Wildfire. I really am."

She tucked her head against his chest. "I'll miss him."

"I know you will." He let her lean on him a moment longer, then carefully put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. "We need to talk about something important, kid. I hate to be the one to have to discuss this with you, but that's how things have turned out."

She wondered what he meant by that. But she had something important she wanted to say too, and she spoke up at that moment, hoping to get it out before he started talking. She didn't quite make it, and they both ended up saying what they had in mind at the same time.

"I think it's time for your upgrade."

"I wanna get my upgrade."

The Combaticon and the sparkling stared at each other for a good handful of seconds, optics rebooting in surprise. Then Swindle spoke again. "Really?"

"Really," she replied. "It's really okay? You think I should too?"

"I _know_ you should, kid," he told her. "It'll be safer for you. Galvatron will be less likely to go after you if you're an adult, and you'll be better able to protect yourself if anything happens." He gave a soft chuckle. "I'm just surprised you want it."

"I wanna help the Decepticons," she replied. "I hate that I see everyone hurting and things going so bad for us. Maybe if I'm an adult, I can do something to help. Something that really helps, not just boosting morale and stuff like that."

Swindle nodded. "It's gonna mean not as much playtime… and you'll have a harder time interacting with the cassettes."

She hadn't thought about that. The playtime part didn't concern her as much, but knowing this would affect her relationship with Rumble and Frenzy sent a pang through her spark. Would they still talk to her and include her in their pranks if she was bigger than they were? Or would they ignore her once she was an adult?

She didn't say anything to Swindle, though. She just nodded. "I know. But I gotta do it. I want to do it."

Swindle sighed and stood, reaching down to take her hand. "You're growin' up way too soon, kid. But I guess that happens in a war." He tugged gently at her arm. "Let's go find Hook."

She nodded and followed him out of the command center. She could hear Galvatron roaring at someone, and involuntarily she scooted closer to Swindle for protection. Would she still be trying to hide and cling to him once she was in an adult form? She hoped not. More than anything, she hoped being upgraded would give her the sense of security she'd wanted for so long.

* * *

"Patient is offline, sir," Scrapper reported. "All readings good, pump rate and fan cycles stable. We're ready."

"Good." Hook flexed his hands, ensuring the joints in his fingers were operating smoothly before reaching for his tool tray. "Let's get this over with."

The Decepticon repair bay, despite being the largest room in the command center (precisely why Hook had commandeered the room for his own use), was uncomfortably cramped and dismal, with inadequate lighting and space for only one berth and one operating table. It disgusted the surgeon to have to work in such substandard conditions, with second-rate tools and supplies. Megatron had his faults, but at least he had understood the importance of a medic, and ensured that Hook did not lack for suitable supplies, materials, and work space. Galvatron and Cyclonus seemed to think Hook was capable of pulling repairs out of his aft, and any requests he put in for new tools or parts were either laughed off or ignored.

The only reason he even had materials for Glory's upgrade was the Stunticons, as much as he hated feeling indebted to that group of lunatics. During the ill-fated attack on Cybertron they had stopped to pillage a medical center, making off with a supply of desperately needed parts and equipment… and a Seeker chassis. Why an Autobot medic had kept one on hand was anyone's guess – perhaps the medic had appropriated the clinic from a deceased Decepticon and hadn't bothered to clean out the stores, or perhaps he had entertained thoughts of creating an Autobot Seeker of his own.

No matter. The Autobot in question was no longer alive to waste the body, and with a few modifications it would be the ideal upgraded form for the sparkling.

Once his tools were arranged to his liking, Hook turned back to Glory. His patient lay on the operating table, offline and optics darkened. He wasn't fond of the sparkling like some others he could mention, but he had to admit (only to himself, of course) that it had been eerie watching the energetic young femme go still and quiet and her optics dim, and know that it would be for the last time.

The sparkling that had become a fixture among Megatron's forces for so long would die today, in a fashion. And though it wouldn't be a true death, and she would awaken in a new body with a new function, it wouldn't be quite the same.

He shook those thoughts out of his CPU and returned his attention to the task at hand. "Lights to maximum brightness. Scrapper, have an energy line ready. Bonecrusher, get the spark extractor. Mixmaster, are you done playing around with the paint mixer and ready to make yourself useful yet?"

Mixmaster glanced up from his corner of the medbay, his armor flecked with violet. "Havin' some trouble getting the right shade of purple for the touch-ups, sir! Too much red in this batch, looks like…"

"We'll worry about fixing her paint job later," Hook said testily. "Get your aft over here and help."

Mixmaster grumbled but shut off the paint mixer and made his way over. "What do I do?"

"Keep an optic on the monitors," Hook ordered. "Inform me if any of her readings dip below safe levels."

"Stick me with the boring job," Mixmaster huffed. "Yessir-yessir."

Once Hook was sure everyone and everything was in proper position, he set to work. He found the catches to Glory's chestplate, unlatched them, and carefully lifted the plate away to expose her internal workings. To the untrained optic it was merely a nest of wires and cables and tubes, with random components and circuitry visible here and there. Hook knew better – he knew what a delicate machine the Cybertronian body was, how everything within a mech's body had a purpose, right down to the last microchip and power cable. Every component had its proper place within the body, and every piece worked together to keep chassis, spark, and CPU operating smoothly and in cooperation with each other.

A properly built chassis, with every system and part working as it should, was a masterpiece, and it never ceased to fascinate him.

No time to gawk, however. He had a task to accomplish. Taking the spark extractor from Bonecrusher, he reached for a spherical compartment within her chest. An electronic lock prevented it from being opened by anyone but its owner under normal circumstances, but it was the work of less than a minute for Hook's medical authorization to override the lock and snap it open, revealing the blue-gold light of Glory's spark.

"Primus below," Bonecrusher murmured. The demolitions expert wore a rare look of awe as he stared at the spark. Hook couldn't exactly blame him – this wasn't a mere component they were looking at, but the very soul of the mechanism, the one thing that separated Cybertronians from mere machines.

But again, they weren't here to gawk – and now that her spark chamber was open, they would be working under a time limit. A spark could only be disconnected from a power source for so long before it began to fade, and they would have to work quickly to transfer it from Glory's old chassis to her new one.

"Extractor!" Hook barked.

Bonecrusher jumped, startled out of his awestruck trance, and he quickly handed the item in question over – a transparent canister with a clawed mechanism at one end. Hook snatched the item out of his hands and held it over the pulsing spark, thumbing on the activation switch.

A crackle of energy filled the air as the spark resisted the pull of the extractor, leaving a smell of ozone behind. Hook grimaced, for once grateful that his patient was offline and unable to feel the procedure. It was rumored that having one's spark sucked out was the most painful way to be deactivated, though naturally no one had survived the experience to confirm said rumor.

At last, with a weird sucking sound, the spark vanished from the chamber, pouring into the extractor as if it had suddenly become liquid. The moment he pulled the extractor away, Glory's armor began to fade, darkening from silver and violet to a deathly gray. Hook gestured sharply, and Scrapper quickly pulled a sheet over the body to obscure the unnerving sight.

"Vital signs down to zero, sir!" Mixmaster barked.

"I'm quite aware of that," Hook snapped. "Detach the monitors and hook them up to the Seeker's chassis. Scrapper, the energy line."

Mixmaster and Scrapper set to work, plugging the monitors into ports on the Seeker's body and energizing it in preparation to receive a spark. Seeing as Glory's maternal creator and uncle had been Seekers, it was pretty much assumed that she, too, would be best suited to that function. Hook had altered the body slightly ahead of time, giving it the slimmer, more elegant look of a femme but keeping the fierce, deadly look of the most feared and valuable of the Decepticon builds. Her adult body kept the violet and silver of her sparkling form, but with the addition of a jet-black helm and yellow wing stripes. Her sparkling abilities also carried over to this form – Hook had already removed the device that allowed her to shift colors from her sparkling body and installed it into this chassis. And rather than the arm spikes of her sparkling body, this form carried concealed arm blades, much like those Piston had wielded in battle.

Hook smiled grimly. Galvatron and Cyclonus would have no cause to complain that the femme was useless now. If they did… the more fools were they.

The Seeker's chest lay open, ready to receive the spark. Hook positioned the extractor over the open spark chamber and re-activated it, and another flash of energy filled the room as the chamber flared to life.

"Vital signs climbing," Mixmaster reported. "Climbing… optimal levels, sir!"

The other Constructicons broke into cheers, and Hook indulged himself in a triumphant smile of his own. The operation was a success. Even as he watched, the spark flickered a bit, then began pulsing strongly, as if it had never experienced the trauma of a transplant. It might have been his imagination, but he almost fancied that the colors on the Seeker body had brightened, as if given new life by the spark.

"All right, enough, you idiots," Hook ordered. "We're not done yet. We still have to transfer the CPU over."

"Yeah, but that's newbuilt's play," Long Haul pointed out. "The tough part's over!"

If Long Haul had any idea how many delicate wires were involved in installing a CPU into a chassis, he never would have said that. But then, his involvement in the CPU transfer would be limited to carrying it from the operating table to the berth. Hook would be the one spending the next hour or so soldering tiny wires into place. Still, it was a relief to know that the spark was safely in place. A damaged CPU could be repaired, but there was no mending a snuffed spark.

He unlatched Glory's helm and removed it, exposing the empty cranial cavity. Then he turned to the sparkling body and set to work. There was still much to be done.

* * *

"Dude, stop pacing, will ya?" Rumble demanded. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor if ya keep it up."

"I can't help it," Swindle snapped. "The kid's in there!"

"We know," Rumble replied. "Ain't like it's a big secret. But she's in Hook's hands, an' he's the best medic this side of Cybertron. Relax a little, will ya?"

Easier said than done. Swindle couldn't help but be worried, despite Rumble's reassurances. Even knowing Glory was in the hands of the Decepticons' best didn't assuage his fears. The best Hook might be, but things could still go wrong even with the best medic in charge of the operation. And Hook had never done an upgrade like this before. Sure, he'd transferred adult sparks from old bodies to new, but he'd never handled a sparkling's adult upgrade before. There was always the chance that he'd slip up, and all their work in protecting Glory would be for nothing.

A sizeable crowd waited outside the repair bay for word on Glory's operation – Swindle, Rumble, Frenzy, Breakdown, Dragstrip, Dead End, and Wildrider. Cyclonus had not been amused to find so many of his troops wasting time in the corridors like this, but seeing as nobody had anything more pressing to do he'd grudgingly allowed it. Galvatron, for his part, didn't seem to care one way or another. Perhaps the prospect of a new addition to his forces neutralized any irritation he might feel toward the impromptu gathering.

Swindle checked his internal chronometer and grimaced. Two hours had passed since Glory had vanished through that door, and still no word. Surely it couldn't take that long to switch her spark and CPU to a new body, could it? Then again, perhaps the longer it took, the more time Hook was spending being careful. The best way to botch a procedure was to rush it, after all…

"Will ya sit down already?" Dragstrip finally growled. "You're making me dizzy just looking at you!"

"Look, I'm just worried about the kid is all!" Swindle retorted. "This is a big thing!"

"Sure it is, but you don't see us wearin' our servos down pacing about it," said Dragstrip. "Upgrades happen all the time. Quit fussin' so much."

"But what if something does go wrong?" Breakdown worried. "What if her spark goes out while they're transferring it? What if the Autobots attack in the middle of it and Galvatron makes them leave her half-upgraded to go fight? What if…"

"What if Chaar explodes?" Wildrider snarked. "What if retrorats fly and start gnawing on our CPUs? Primus, Breaky, quit bein' such a worrywart!"

"He has valid worries," Dead End pointed out. "There are a multitude of ways the operation could go wrong. The sparkling could be deactivating at this very moment…"

"Shut up, you aren't helping!" Wildrider barked, reaching over to whap Dead End in the back of the helm.

Swindle opened his mouth to tell the Stunticons to knock it off before a full-on fist fight erupted in the corridors, only for the repair bay doors opening to cut him off before he could speak. His mouth remained open as he stared at the mech walking out.

She was a Seeker, with the slim body and the broad shoulders and wingspan typical of her build type. But a sharp-opticed mech would pick out subtle differences between a normal Seeker and this one. Her waist was trimmer, her wings longer and narrower, her shoulder vents shorter and her leg fins more pronounced. Most of her body was the same royal purple and silver of Glory's chassis, though her helm and hands were black and her wings striped in yellow. Even the basic shape of her face had changed, with smaller optics and more sharply angled features.

But there was no mistaking the grin she wore on her lip plates, and had Swindle been human it would have brought a lump to his throat. New chassis or not, this femme was still Glory.

"Whoa…" Dragstrip muttered.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Even her voice had changed, her sparkling vocalizer swapped out for the deeper, more mature sound of an adult voice box, but the inflections unique to Glory's speech patterns remained. "How do I look?"

"Fraggin' awesome!" Frenzy gushed. "What's your new alt form, huh? Can we see?"

"Duh, she's a jet, you lugnut," Rumble told him, elbowing him in the side. "What else would a Seeker be, a tank?"

"Oh, shut up!"

Glory laughed. "I haven't transformed yet. But let's go outside and we can all see!"

"Right on!" Frenzy whooped, and he and Rumble dashed off.

"Well, the procedure went far better than I was expecting," Dead End noted, looking Glory up and down. "Good to see you still among the functional."

"Seriously, no car mode?" Dragstrip demanded, faking a pout. "Here we were hoping to get another stunt driver for our team!"

"Hey, we can still beat a jet in a race!" Wildrider cackled. "Just means we have to play a little dirtier, that's all."

Glory giggled, then turned to face Swindle. Her smile faded when she made optic contact with him, and she looked at him worriedly. "Swindle? Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Why?"

"You looked… well, disappointed is all."

Swindle shook his head. "No, not at all, kid… I could never be disappointed in you. Gonna miss the little sparkling that clung to my legs and tagged along at my heels is all."

She smiled shyly. "I guess this is going to take a lot of getting used to for all of us."

"It'll be worth it, though." He reached up to pat her shoulder, marveling that the little femme who had once come waist-high to him now stood quite a bit taller than he did. "I just wish your uncle could see you now."

"I wish so too." She looked down at her feet, shuttering her optics as if trying to hide her sadness. "I miss him."

"I know." He patted her shoulder. "Come on… let's not keep your friends waiting. They want to see your new form in action."

She nodded, and together the Combaticon and Seeker made their way out of the command center.


	11. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact -- the introductory scene of this chapter was the original beginning of the fic, and the first chunk written. The original plan was for the story to begin "in media res" and to tell the first several chapters in flashback form. I ended up scrapping the idea but keeping this scene because I liked it too much to throw away.

Desolation.

That was the only word to describe the gray, barren expanse below. Jagged rock formations and the rusted, battered hulks of hastily constructed buildings served to break the monotony of the landscape, but did nothing to add color or beauty. No trees or plants grew in the little soil available, no animals or birds or insects lived among the rocks and ruins. Only a dry, cold wind moved upon the gray plains, hissing and howling like an invisible beast as it scoured every surface with airborne grit, as if seeking to scrub the planet clean of any vestige of life.

High on a cliff overlooking the plain, a lone Decepticon Seeker surveyed the lay of the land, heedless of the wind that battered and pulled at her armor. Gleaming silver and violet, with a black helm and glowing scarlet optics, she was the sole spot of color in the bleak landscape. The elements seemed to take offense at this, and the wind lashed at her, throwing dust and sand at her plating, tugging at her wings like it was seeking to pull her over the edge.

She paid the wind no heed, however. Her optics were fixed on the horizon, half-lidded in concentration. It was as if she were waiting for something, her gaze expectant.

Slowly, with utmost caution, she took another step, placing herself at the very edge of the cliff. The rock beneath her feet crumbled slightly, sending a shower of pebbles down the cliff face, but she didn't back away from her precarious perch. For a sparkbeat she stood there, balanced upon the precipice.

Then she shuttered her optics, tensed her knee joints, and leaped.

For a few moments she let gravity have its way, reveling in the pump-stopping sensation of freefall. Then she kicked her antigravs into gear at the last possible second, slowing her fall to a halt a few scant yards before impact. She hovered there a moment, then activated her thrusters, sending herself hurtling skyward.

An exhilarated laugh burst from her vocalizer as she tore through the sky, relishing the feel of wind rushing over her chassis, her wings slicing through the air like twin blades. As a sparkling she had always loved to fly, but somehow the experience was greatly enhanced in her Seeker form. There was something about feeling the wind against one's wings that was as intoxicating as a cube of high grade.

She climbed higher, then higher still… then abruptly cut power to her thrusters. She hung in the air for a moment that seemed an eternity, then began to drop to the earth. Again the rush of freefall seized her, a thrill that bordered on panic coursing through her systems. Every preprogrammed instinct screamed for her to reactivate her thrusters or antigravs and stay her fall, but she resisted, merely stretching her arms and legs out in a spread-eagle position to slow her descent slightly.

_Wait for it… wait for it… NOW!_

She sent a pulse of energy, not to her thrusters or antigravs, but to her transformation cog. Immediately she felt herself split apart, limbs and components twisting and clicking into their new places, her systems reconfiguring themselves to fit her new form. It wasn't painful or even unpleasant, but it was still a moment of disorientation for her as her CPU adjusted to the sudden shift in body shape.

Finally the last plate of armor locked into place, completing her new form. Her transformation done, she finally activated her thrusters and pulled up, leveling off about thirty feet from the ground and roaring over the desolate plain.

Had a human been present, they might have recognized her alternate mode – an Earth-based fighter jet, specifically an F-14 Tomcat. There were those among the Decepticons that mocked such Earth-based forms, claiming they were inferior to Cybertronian alt modes, but she preferred to ignore the naysayers. There was something about the sleek build of the humans' jets that couldn't compare to the clunky tetrajets or the alien shapes of Cyclonus and the Sweeps.

And even if this wasn't the exact same form Thundercracker had worn, it still helped her feel closer to the mech to wear a similar alt mode.

She slalomed back and forth, weaving between the jagged rock formations. One accidental clip of her wingtip against a boulder could end in disaster at speeds like this, but she didn't slow down. A few times collision warnings flashed in her readout as she passed too close to a formation, but she took those as accomplishments rather than danger. She might not be the fastest or most powerful mech in Galvatron's forces, but she felt her agility and maneuverability more than made up for it.

Once she'd run the makeshift obstacle course, she pulled up again and made for the sky, twisting in a barrel roll on the way up. She looped and rolled through the air, laughing in exhilaration, relishing every maneuver and trick she executed successfully, delighting in the feel of wind under her wings and open space in every direction. No matter how many times she took to flight, the joy in her spark at taking flight never dimmed.

 _Can you see me, Thundercracker?_ she thought. _Can you see what I've become? Would you be proud of me and what I can do?_

Her reverie was cut short by a curt voice over the radio – Cyclonus. _I did not give you permission to conduct maneuvers so far out from our base, Seeker._

Anger and irritation flared in her spark at his words, but she managed to keep them out of her voice as she responded. _The Sweeps were out on maneuvers around the base, sir. I did not wish to interfere with their drills._

_Commendable, but you will not go so far from the base in the future. Return to the command center, Glory. Galvatron has an assignment for you._

_Copy, Cyclonus, sir. On my way._

She banked sharply, turning around and making her way back to the command center. An assignment from Galvatron… that didn't bode well. Their not-so-beloved commander had a disturbing tendency to send his troops out on suicide missions, not seeming to care if they came back alive or not. He didn't think his orders through before delivering them, and thus Decepticons were often sent away with orders that were confusing, contradictory, or just plain impossible to execute. Then Galvatron would have the nerve to blame his troops for failing to fulfill his desires, and either lash out at them or throw a full-on tantrum.

She sighed softly as she juked idly back and forth, taking her time in getting back to base. Megatron might have had bizarre ideas and overly complex plans, but at least he took the time to make sure they were halfway feasible before putting them into action. And Starscream might have been short on temper and long on ego, but even he hadn't been reduced to fits whenever a scheme of his had failed.

Glory never thought the day would come when she would actually miss Starscream… but that just went to show how bad things had gotten under Galvatron's "leadership."

Three years had passed since her upgrade – despite no longer living on Earth, most of the Decepticons kept track of the passage of time using that planet's units of measurement rather than the Cybertronian system, a practice that irked Cyclonus to no end. And a great deal had happened in that amount of time, so much that it boggled Glory's CPU to think about it all. Fights against both the Autobots and the Quintessons, attacks on alien planets, attempts to retake Cybertron or other key planets that generally ended in disaster, a failed coup on Scourge's part, a virulent Hate Plague that had nearly wiped out Cybertronian-kind before being contained… and most incredibly of all, the resurrection of Optimus Prime, the fabled Autobot leader, and a truce between Autobot and Decepticon that no one had ever dreamed would come.

That last part struck Glory as more than a little unfair. Why did the Autobots get their beloved leader back while the Decepticons were stuck with Galvatron? Surely if the Quintessons could restore Optimus Prime to life, they could bring Megatron back too. It seemed the universe in general favored the Autobots, a fact Dead End liked to point out constantly.

Though Optimus Prime's return had granted her a faint sliver of hope – that if the Prime could be brought back to life, maybe her uncle could too…

Plumes of concrete-colored dust rose up from the ground below as a string of vehicles headed for the base. She swooped down for a closer look… and smiled internally. Motormaster was leading the Stunticons back to the command center, no doubt also recalled from tearing up the desert to go on this assignment of Galvatron's.

Well, Cyclonus hadn't ordered their immediate return back… so why not have a bit of fun before they had to report for duty?

With a deft flip and twist she transformed to her robot mode, landing smartly on the back of Motormaster's trailer. The Stunticon leader growled and swerved, trying to throw her off, but she gamely hung on.

"What the frag!" he growled. "Gerroff!"

"Aw, don't act so happy to see me," Glory teased.

"Oh, it's you, kid," he replied, sounding a bit less annoyed. "Give a mech some warning next time."

"Hey kid!" Dragstrip called out. "You get called out on this mystery mission too?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm kind of nervous as to what it's going to entail. Cyclonus wasn't exactly generous with the details, was he?"

"He's out to get us killed," Dead End said balefully. "You'll see. We won't come back alive from this mission, and he'll be free to replace us with his choice of troops."

"Replace us with what, energy leeches?" Dragstrip retorted. "Ain't heard from any other 'Cons in ages, so he can't replace us with those."

"He could build more troops?" Breakdown suggested. "We have more supplies now with that truce going…"

"Not enough to build new Decepticons," Glory pointed out. "And even then, we don't have access to Vector Sigma to give them sparks. He's stuck with us, so I doubt he's going to want to get rid of us even if he hates us."

"Don't mean Galvatron won't get us offlined," Motormaster pointed out. "Mech wouldn't know logic if it bit him in the aft."

The mental image of a physical "logic" monster sneaking up behind Galvatron and chomping him in the posterior was too amusing, and Glory burst into giggles.

"Hey kid, let's have a little fun while we head back," Wildrider suggested. "Race ya back to base!"

"Prepare to have your aft stomped," she retorted, grinning, and she sprang from Motormaster's trailer, transforming to her jet mode again and tearing off. Dragstrip and Wildrider gunned their engines and took off in pursuit, cackling wildly.

It would have been sparkling's play for Glory to simply gun her thrusters and streak ahead of the others, making it back to base long before they did. But she held back, letting the Stunticons catch up until they were just at her tailfins. Beating them every time wasn't any fun, and besides, part of the thrill of the chase was in the exchange of snarky retorts and boasts, something she couldn't do if she was too far ahead.

Wildrider suddenly went airborne, leaping and transforming in one motion, and he landed on Glory's back. She yelped and rolled in an effort to dump him off, but he hung on tightly.

"Jet judo!" he cackled.

"Since when did you become a Lambo?" she demanded, and pulled up in a steep climb. Wildrider slipped, almost falling off, but he caught hold of her wings and hung on. She dove and rolled, trying to throw him off, but he just clung tighter, like a space barnacle.

Finally she gave up and just gunned it for the command center. At least with Wildrider hitching a ride, it could technically be called a close race, right?

Cyclonus was waiting at the door to the command center, arms folded across his chest and a grim scowl on his face. Glory didn't worry too much about that – that seemed to be his default expression anyhow. She swooped down, ready to touch down and claim victory.

Before she could so much as lower her landing gear, though, Wildrider acted. He vaulted from her back, whooping with maniacal glee as he tumbled through the air. Activating his antigravs at the last minute, he touched down and threw his arms up in celebration.

"I win!" he crowed.

"You cheated!" Glory accused, transforming and landing smartly beside him. "There's got to be a rule against using other racers as a vehicle!"

"Rules were made to be broken," Wildrider retorted, still grinning. "Ain't that right, Drag?"

"Drop dead," Dragstrip grumbled, pulling up and transforming as well. "I so would've beat ya if ya hadn't cheated!"

"You were ordered to return to the command center, not engage in juvenile activities such as racing," Cyclonus snapped.

"Excuse us for tryin' to have a little fun on the job," muttered Wildrider, though he was careful to lower his voice enough that only Glory could catch the words.

The other three Stunticons skidded to stops and transformed to join Glory, Wildrider, and Dragstrip. Glory and Motormaster both stood at attention, neither wanting to annoy Cyclonus any more than necessary. The others slouched where they stood, looking as if they'd rather be anywhere, even in the Autobot base as chew toys for Grimlock, than here.

Cyclonus wasted no time in getting to the point. "Galvatron commands the six of you to go to the Autobot outpost on Mars and destroy it."

Motormaster rebooted his optics in surprise. "So much for the truce, eh? How long did it last anyhow, a couple of months?"

"The truce was never intended to be permanent," Cyclonus replied. "The Autobots have grown complacent now, and it is the perfect time to strike at them."

"Cyclonus, sir, the terms of the truce were that the Autobots would leave us alone and give us our own worlds to establish bases on if we left them alone," Glory pointed out. "If we break the truce, they'll turn on us. And there aren't enough of us to oppose them. We'll be crushed."

Cyclonus glowered at her. "Is that cowardice you speak? Or treason, seeing as you wish to disobey Galvatron's direct orders?"

"Neither, sir," she said quickly. "Just caution."

"I suppose you can argue that it was the Autobots who broke the truce first," Dead End pointed out. "They promised us worlds of our own, but on the condition that they chose the worlds in question. And they have yet to get around to the actual choosing." He sighed deeply. "Ah, the fate of the Decepticons, to be fragged over at every possible opportunity. Sometimes I wonder if Primus created us simply for tragic comic relief."

Cyclonus gave Dead End a look. It couldn't exactly be called a pleased or happy look, but at the very least he seemed a little less annoyed at the Stunticon than usual. "You speak correctly, Dead End. The Autobots see fit to short us in their supposed deal… so it is only right that we take what is rightfully ours. And you six are perfectly suited for this job."

"For some wreckin'?" Motormaster asked, perking up just a bit.

"For sabotage," Cyclonus replied. "You Stunticons shall disguise yourselves as Autobots and infiltrate the base… then destroy it from within. The base is minimally staffed and only lightly guarded – you should have little trouble."

Glory frowned. "What about me, sir? I can hardly disguise myself as an Autobot."

"You will stand by while they infiltrate, and wait until they disable the base's defenses," Cyclonus told her. "Then you will attack it from the air. I trust you're competent in aerial bombardment?"

She clenched her jaw, irritation prickling through her systems. Just because she was young and hadn't fought much didn't mean she was incompetent. Slag, she had a better success rate than the Sweeps, even if she wasn't able to compete with Thrust and his trine yet.

"Yes, sir," was all she said, though. No use getting him completely fragged off at her.

"You're dismissed, then," Cyclonus ordered. "Astrotrain will depart for the far side of Mars in a breem." And he strode off.

Motormaster humphed loudly. "Why do even the fun assignments seem dull when he gives them out?" he complained. "Guess at least we didn't get saddled with the Sweeps too…"

"What's on Mars that he's so all-fired eager to get anyhow?" Breakdown demanded. "It's about as barren as Chaar, isn't it?"

"The Autobot base, duh," Wildrider retorted. "He wants the Autobots trashed, doofus. The fewer Autobots there are, the better. And maybe we can find the humans' silly Rover and kick it around while we're there. Or pose in front of it for pictures."

Glory pondered what Wildrider had said a moment. "Speaking of humans – Mars IS pretty close to Earth. Maybe Galvatron wants to gain a foothold there so he can invade their planet. There's also that huge volcano on the planet – Olympus Mons. If we could get it to go off…"

"Energy," Motormaster realized, a huge grin crossing his faceplate. "Our own source of energy, without having to raid for it. Maybe Galvatron's smarter than we give him credit for."

Glory doubted that. She had observed Galvatron for some time, and while he wasn't stupid, his insanity kept him from having more than one coherent thought at a time. She rather doubted that he could form a complex plan for the future on his own, and that Cyclonus planned most of his strategies for him. Doubtless Galvatron's motive in attacking Mars didn't go past "Autobots are there, must kill them!" and it had fallen on Cyclonus to devise an actual plan of attack and a long-term idea of what they were going to do with the planet once they actually took it.

Not for the first time, she wondered just how long Galvatron would last as leader without Cyclonus there to back him up. It wouldn't be for long, she reasoned – without his lieutenant to guard his back and make sense of the often-incoherent rants that passed as his orders to the Decepticons, he would be shot in the back inside a week. That was, if he didn't have such a spazz attack over losing his second-in-command that he self-destructed, or did something so monumentally stupid it cost him his own life.

She wondered if she should share this observation with Motormaster. The Stunticon leader had talked often enough about getting Galvatron out of the way and ensuring a competent mech took his place as Decepticon commander, and eliminating Cyclonus would be the fastest way to do that. But despite the fact that she was friends with his team, Motormaster tended to dismiss her input on anything. Even after her upgrade, he still seemed to think of her as a sparkling, despite the fact that she was technically older than him.

She sighed softly, electing to keep it to herself for now. Still, maybe Hook would listen to her, or Onslaught. Or she could pass it on to the cassettes and let them plant the idea in Soundwave's CPU. There had to be someone who could make use of the idea.

"A'right, enough standing around running our vocalizers," grumbled Motormaster. "Let's go see the Constructicons about getting some repainting done and go get this mission over with."

"Meet you guys up on the plateau," Glory told them. "Let's kick some aft."

Motormaster smirked a little. "Sometimes I think you woulda made a better Stunt than a Seeker, kid. Shame you picked a flier mode."

She shrugged. "I knew from the time I was very young that I wanted to be a flier. I guess it's just in my programming. That doesn't mean I can't still spread some good destruction with you guys."

"True, far as that goes. See ya in a few kliks." And he transformed and drove off, the other Stunticons assuming their vehicle modes and trailing after him.

Glory waited until they had vanished into the repair bay before taking off for the plateau. More than anything, she hoped they would be able to accomplish this mission and come home to report success. The Decepticons had suffered such a run of bad luck in the past four years that surely some good was bound to come their way, right?

* * *

 _So much for hopeful thoughts,_ Glory thought darkly as she pulled up sharply, trying to lose the flier on her tail. It looked as if the Decepticons' streak of bad luck would hold firm and fast today, unless a miracle happened.

She suspected things were going to go badly the minute the repainted Stunticons had tried to bluff their way through the base's front gate. For all their skill at destruction, and for all they had somehow managed to pass themselves off as Autobots early on in their lives, their skills at deception left much to be desired. In the end, Motormaster had "bluffed" his way past the guard at the checkpoint by clocking him over the head and stuffing his offline chassis in his trailer before continuing on.

Whatever had gone on inside the base was a mystery to her. She'd stayed back, perched on the very lowest slopes of Olympus Mons and keeping a sharp optic on the shared Autobot/human base that rested in the shadow of the gigantic volcano. She'd kept her colors in their dark phase while she waited, hoping that if anyone should look in her direction they'd take her for shadows on the mountain rather than a Decepticon Seeker.

She had just decided to break radio silence and ping Motormaster to ask what was taking so long when smoke had suddenly begun pouring out of the base windows, and alarms sounded in the thin Martian air. Two of the Stunticons – Dragstrip and Dead End judging by their body shapes – had come charging out of the base, with far too many Autobots hot on their heels for her liking. Evidently something in the plan had gone wrong, and the Stunts had to fight their way out.

Before she could dive down to join the fray and help her comrades, however, a monster of an Autobot had dived from the sky, shrieking in rage and spewing fire at her. Now she was trying to shake her attacker, wanting him off her aft so she could fire on the groundpounders without worrying about getting her tailfins blasted off.

"You Decepticon surrender!" Swoop crowed, blasting another stream of fire at her. "Or Dinobots make scrap out of you!"

"You have to catch me first," she taunted, and spiraled higher. The winged Dinobot hissed and beat his wings, soaring higher, flames jetting from his beak.

There had been a time in her young life when the thought of going up against a Dinobot would have terrified her into paralysis. She had heard nothing but horror stories about the creatures as a sparkling, and when she had finally been allowed onto the battlefield as an observer, seeing the ferocity of the creatures firsthand had only cemented her fear of them. And the first time she had joined an energon raid and had the ill luck to run into Grimlock, she'd thought her life was over then and there.

But all the tales she'd heard hadn't accounted for one simple factor – as strong as the Dinobots were, they were fairly stupid. And while few Decepticons could outfight them, a particularly cunning one could outsmart them.

She circled higher, the Pterodactyl-former hot on her thrusters. She tried to take their wild chase away from Olympus Mons, though the mountain was so massive that it was difficult to judge their distance from it. Best to keep the Dinobot away from the Stunticons so they could escape… and hope they hadn't run into the other beasts on the way out. She had no doubt that Menasor could take on the Dinobots, but all the same she would rather not see her friends hurt.

There was a loud and somehow sharp-sounding clang behind her as Swoop snapped at her tailfins, his beak closing mere inches from her plating. She retaliated by pouring more power to her thrusters and shrieking higher, blasting the Dinobot in the face with her exhaust. He hissed in rage and spewed flame, though she twisted deftly to the side to avoid the blast.

 _C'mon,_ she urged him silently. _Follow me, silly flier… just a little bit higher…_

"You Seeker surrender!" Swoop barked. "Maybe him Prime be easy on you!"

Glory laughed. "Decepticons don't surrender!" And she cut the power to her thrusters, letting herself slow to a halt. She hung in the air for a pump-stopping moment, then began to plummet.

Swoop backwinged to a halt, squawking his surprise. Glory took advantage of his moment of confusion and transformed as she fell, letting her arm blades slide out the moment her arms were free. Before the Dinobot could move out of the way, she had caught the leading edge of his right wing with both blades, shearing through the metal as easily as a plasma blade cut through rubber.

The Dinobot howled in outraged pain as over half his wing fell away, then gave a squawk of fear as he began to fall. Flailing his remaining wing, he plummeted to the ground. Glory didn't stick around to watch the impact but activated her antigravs, staying her own fall.

"Goin' somewhere, tin turkey?"

She whirled in midair, groaning. Not Aerialbots too! How many Autobots were there on this rock anyhow? Cyclonus had told them there would be few mechs here. Last time she trusted the bunny-bot's intel.

"Give it up, Seeker!" Slingshot cackled, rising from the base to intercept her, his brothers close behind him. "This planet belongs to us! Go back to the Pit that spawned ya!"

"You already have Earth and Cybertron!" she shouted back. "And now you'll claim every other planet in the galaxy as yours? And you call US greedy conquerors!"

"This isn't our world," Silverbolt acknowledged, maneuvering his way to the front of the group and leaving Slingshot to grumble behind him. "But we're allied with the humans, and we've pledged to help them protect their outposts on other worlds. That includes defending this world from your attempts to take it."

Glory snorted. "Killing them with kindness, then? At least we Decepticons are honest about conquering planets, instead of dragging them under our rule under the guise of alliances and treaties." Those weren't exactly her words – they came from one of Onslaught's many speeches he had given her over the years – but they seemed to fit this occasion.

"At least we're not idiot 'Cons who get shot down like buzzards at every battle!" Air Raid retorted.

Was that really the best he could come up with? She decided that any further bickering was pointless, and instead of dignifying his insult with a retort she transformed and streaked skyward. Too bad this planet's clouds were too thin to provide adequate cover, but maybe she could lead them on a merry chase anyhow, and show these Seeker wannabes how flying was really done.

She fully expected the Aerialbots to come after her, guns blazing. But they didn't pursue, only veered around and returned to base. Were they satisfied that the Decepticons were retreating, or had they been ordered back to base?

 _Maybe they just think you're not worth the bullet or plasma bolt it would take to bring you down,_ she thought acidly. That thought made her want to turn around and shoot the tailfins off those cocky fliers, but she forced herself to maintain her flight path. It would be suicide to take on all five Aerialbots without backup. And given that she had no idea what condition the Stunticons were in, she couldn't count on them to be the support she needed.

_Glory to Stunticons, what's your position?_

_Free an' clear!_ Motormaster replied, his voice rumbling with barely suppressed rage. _Slaggin' Autobots, saw through our disguises on the spot almost… barely got away in time._

_Any injuries?_

_We're all banged around and a little scorched,_ Dragstrip replied. _Wildrider lost an arm; we think Sideswipe has it. Got some blast marks and ruptured lines too, but nothing life-threatening._

Glory sighed in relief and swooped down to join the Stunticons. The five vehicles formed a battered caravan as they drove across the rust-colored landscape, rocking and bumping along the uneven ground. Breakdown was whining with each bump and hole he hit, and he seemed to be dripping coolant or oil as he went. Wildrider bore a gaping hole in one side, probably where the Lamborghinis had taken his arm, and Dead End's front bumper was smashed in as if something big had kicked him.

A pang of guilt pierced her internals at seeing her friends in such condition. She should have been down on the ground helping them, not playing around in the air. Maybe she could have chased some of the groundpounders off, or even taken a few of them out.

_I'm sorry, guys._

_For what?_ demanded Wildrider. _You didn't beat the slag out of us! Was those stupid Lambos and their loser Dinobot buddies._

 _I should have been helping you,_ she pointed out. _I could have done something…_

 _You were beatin' off Swoop and the Aerialbots,_ Dragstrip pointed out. _That helped, kid. Dunno what we woulda done had they decided to join the party. This ain't your fault, trust me._

 _Well, that was a pointless exercise,_ Dead End noted. _All we succeeded in doing was getting ourselves royally pummeled. If we had wanted or needed that, we could have simply challenged Devastator or Bruticus to a fight._ He sighed, grunting in pain as that act jarred his damaged engine. _We'll be lucky to make it back to Chaar without one of us offlining from his injuries._

 _Don't talk like that,_ Glory chided. _We're going to make it back and get fixed up. At least we're able to get supplies shipped to Chaar now, and don't have to rely on the raids._

 _We might not have those much longer,_ whined Breakdown. _We broke the truce, remember? The Autobots don't have any reason anymore to not attack us. They're gonna hunt us down and kill us!_

 _Shut it, ya wuss,_ Motormaster barked. _Nothin's gonna happen until we get back to base an' report this to Cyclonus. He'll decide what to do from here._

Glory groaned. _Cyclonus isn't going to be happy about this._

 _I'd rather put up with Cyc than Galvatron,_ Dragstrip admitted. _At least Cyc hasn't killed anyone yet._

" _Yet" being the key word,_ Dead End pointed out. _We all know Cyclonus is going to report this failure to Galvatron first thing. And that'll be our doom. Either that, or the Autobots will launch a counterattack in response to this fiasco, and our doom will come by THEIR hands instead. Either way, we're dead._

A shudder passed through Glory's frame at Dead End's words, and not just from his implication that Galvatron could very well terminate them for their failure. The Autobots weren't normally given to exacting revenge or actively trying to wipe out the Decepticons, but there was always a first time for everything. And given that Galvatron had broken an important truce by ordering this attack, they could very well decide that was grounds for hunting down and destroying their kind.

First things first, though… they had to report this to Galvatron. Once they were sure they would survive THAT encounter, they could worry about the Autobots' reaction to the attack.

Astrotrain waited in a channel not far from the base, and the Stunticons transformed to their robot modes and climbed down to board the shuttle. Glory angled down toward the transport, trying to ignore the leaden feeling in her spark. Slag, she hoped Galvatron was in a good mood today.


	12. Recruitment

To say Galvatron wasn't too happy with the Stunticons' failure to take the Mars base was an understatement.

"Incompetent fools!" he shrieked, bringing his fist down on the arm of his throne with enough force to dent the metal. "How could you lose to pathetic Autobots?"

Glory winced, trying to resist the urge to step back from the throne. The Decepticon commander was a bundle of contradictions – while he enjoyed inflicting terror on his subordinates, he was also quick to punish those that dared to show their terror in any way. Recoiling from one of his fits of rage or even trying to evade a blow were, in his addled CPU, expressions of fear, and would only set him off into a further rage. Best to weather this explosion and hope he wasn't upset enough to start shooting.

"There were too many of them, sir," Motormaster explained, not even bothering to hide his disgusted scowl. "They outnumbered and outgunned us."

"I don't want excuses!" Galvatron howled, half-rising from his throne. "I want the Autobots wiped out! And you sorry excuses for Decepticons couldn't even manage to destroy a single base – a base built by _humans_ no less!"

"Built by humans, protected and fortified by Autobots," Dead End muttered.

"You dare backtalk me?" Galvatron thundered, and he raised his cannon-arm and fired at the maroon Stunticon's feet. Dead End tensed visibly, as if it had taken all his strength not to leap back from the blast.

"If it pleases you, Lord Galvatron, I will take the Sweeps and show these fools how the job should be done," Cyclonus offered from his position at Galvatron's side. "The planet will be yours within a single planetary cycle."

Galvatron opened his mouth as if to answer, but jerked as sparks snapped around his helm. His optics flashed, and his entire face contorted in pain as he waited for the spasm to pass.

"Lord Galvatron?" Cyclonus ventured.

"I'm fine!" Galvatron snapped. "And no, Cyclonus. You are needed here. I'll send another team – one not as hopelessly incompetent as these six!" He glared at the Stunticons and Seeker a moment longer, then gestured toward the door. "What are you still standing here for? Get out!"

He didn't need to tell them twice. Glory almost ran for the door, the Stunticons close behind.

"Well, we got off lightly," Dragstrip noted the moment they were clear of the throne room, trying to sound chipper. "No one got shot or smacked around. He was almost cheerful for being, well, Galvatron."

"He's gonna kill someone one of these days," Breakdown fretted. "He almost killed Dead End in there just now; what's to keep him from finishing the job someday?"

"Last time I checked, nobody ever died from having their feet shot," Wildrider pointed out.

"Breakdown's right," Glory retorted. "Someday Galvatron's going to kill somebody. Just because he didn't today doesn't mean he won't down the road. And I don't know who's going to stop him. Cyclonus sure isn't."

Motormaster snorted. "Cyc would probably be there cheering him on, knowin' the creep. Traitor to his kind is what he is."

"So whadda we do now?" asked Wildrider. "Go back to Mars and try again?"

"No, idiot," Motormaster snapped. "We lay low until Galvatron forgets about this. He's got a temper, but his memory's shot along with his sanity. He'll be on about somethin' else in about a week and we can stop worryin' about it."

"And then what?" Glory asked, giving him an expectant look.

"Do what we've always done," he replied. "Whatever it takes to survive."

Glory couldn't suppress a sigh. That hadn't been the answer she wanted to hear.

"What's your problem, kid?" Motormaster demanded, scowling.

Glory looked around, being sure they were far enough from the throne room that they could talk safely, then spoke in a low voice. "I was hoping you had plans for the future besides just surviving."

The Stunticon commander raised an optic ridge. "What are you getting' at, kid? What do you mean by 'plans for the future?'"

"The future of the Decepticons," she replied. "Not just surviving, but taking back what's ours. Galvatron's dangerous – not just to our safety, but the safety of our cause and our kind. Cyclonus isn't any better either. We need to stop just bending to his will and hoping he doesn't go psychotic enough to kill us… and start thinking about what's best for the Decepticons as a whole."

Breakdown squeaked in fear as he realized what she was getting at. Motormaster's optics flared as he came to the same conclusion, and he grabbed Glory by the arm and pulled her out the nearest exit and away from the base. The other Stunticons made to follow, but a quick gesture from the Kenworth stopped them.

Once they were a good distance from the base proper, Motormaster stopped and turned the young Seeker to face him. "You're talkin' about overthrowing Galvatron, kid."

She nodded.

"Huh." His faceplates remained frozen in a scowl, but a hint of amusement crept into his voice. "You sure you're Thundercracker's niece? Seems you got a hint of Starscream's programming in ya. Or is this his ghost talkin' through your vocalizer?"

"Very funny," she retorted. "I'm serious, Motormaster. Someone needs to take them down."

"And you're expectin' it to be me?"

"You're a good leader," she insisted. "You're strong, you've led the Stunticons for years, and you can command respect from mechs. You'd make a far better commander than Galvatron, and if we could just-"

"I may be crazy, kid, but I ain't suicidal," Motormaster snapped, cutting her off. "And I don't care how strong ya think I am, I'm no match for Galvatron. He'd wipe the floor with me."

"We don't need to get rid of him directly," she insisted. "But if we could get rid of Cyclonus… then it'd only be a matter of time before Galvatron self-destructs."

Motormaster arched an optic ridge. "You've thought about this awhile, haven't you?"

She nodded. She wouldn't admit to him that it had been something she'd been considering on and off almost since her upgrade, or that she'd been keeping a careful eye on both Cyclonus and Galvatron ever since that day in the brig, watching both of them for possible weaknesses. She still wasn't sure what sort of weak spot could be used to bring Cyclonus down, but she knew two things for sure. One, that Cyclonus was Galvatron's biggest weak spot, and that taking him down would ensure Galvatron's destruction. And two, she was not strong enough to take the Air Commander down… but there were mechs among the Decepticons who were, Motormaster included.

"Think about it," she urged. "If you overthrew those two and became the leader, not only would the Decepticons be better off, but they'd see you as a hero. You'd not only be commander of the Decepticons, you'd be respected and even loved by them – the hero who led us out of our darkest hour and helped us regain Cybertron."

Those words were carefully aimed at Motormaster's ego, and he seemed to sense that. But he didn't call her out on it, only pondered her statement with a thoughtful expression.

"What's in it for you?" he said at last. "You want somethin' out of this."

"Yes, I do," she admitted. "I want us to go back to Cybertron, and I want the Decepticons to finally have some happiness."

"Is that it?" he asked. "You're not doin' this 'cause you want a position for yourself or somethin'?"

She shook her head. "I'm not a leader. I just want things to be better for us."

Motormaster narrowed his optics in suspicion. "I dunno… something seems off about all this. Never met a mech who'd make this kinda proposition without expectin' to get somethin' out of it for themselves."

Glory blasted air out her vents in exasperation. "You've known me since I was a sparkling, Motormaster! Why do you suddenly not trust me?"

"Because blindly trusting a mech got us here in the first place is what," he retorted. "Look kid, I dunno why you're proposin' this, but find another mech to be your scapegoat, okay? I know my team ain't the brightest mechs in the universe, but we ain't about to become someone's pawns again. Especially since if this little coup you've cooked up fails, it's all our necks on the line."

Her spark dimmed in disappointment. She had so hoped that Motormaster would see reason and help her with her cause. Of all the mechs she had considered as possible allies, he had been the one she was closest to and trusted the most. His rejection hurt, and while she hadn't exhausted all her possibilities yet, not having the Stunticon leader in her corner was a serious blow to her confidence.

"Can you promise me one thing, at least?" she asked.

Motormaster shrugged. "Depends on the promise."

"Don't tell anyone about this? Please? Just pretend this whole conversation never happened?"

Motormaster smirked slightly. "What conversation?"

Despite her frustration, she had to smile at that. "Thanks."

"Get outta here," he ordered, punching her shoulder lightly – though lightly in his case still meant she staggered back a step. "See ya for a sparrin' match later?"

"Only if you're eager to get your aft kicked," she replied with a grin. "Take care of yourself."

* * *

Whatever information Blast Off had to share, Swindle thought, it must be important. The shuttle-former Combaticon had transformed to robot mode almost before he'd completely touched down, going from flying to running within a few astroseconds. He bolted across the rocky plain and for his gathered teammates with an enthusiasm Swindle had never seen before, visor bright with excitement.

"Someone's in a good mood," Vortex noted.

"Makes one of us at least," Brawl grumbled. "Maybe the Autobots're finally making good on their promise to give us a planet."

"Somehow I doubt that," Onslaught muttered, arms folded as he watched Blast Off approach. "More likely he's discovered an energon cache somewhere. Which we desperately need – with Galvatron violating the truce it's only a matter of time before the Autobots use the Mars attack as an excuse to descend on us and wipe us out."

"Does everyone have Dead End syndrome all of a sudden?" demanded Vortex. "Can't this be something good for once?"

"When good things haven't come to us for a while, do you blame us for being paranoid?" asked Swindle.

Before Vortex could cook up a reply, Blast Off skidded to a halt before Onslaught. He doubled over, body heaving as his fans worked overtime to cool his overheated body.

"Blast Off…" began Onslaught, but the shuttle-former began speaking almost immediately.

"Shockwave's alive!" he blurted. "Picked up a transmission from him while scouting in the Beta Geode sector! He must have a base there!"

"Shouldn't you be reporting this to Cyclonus?" asked Onslaught. "He is one of our chief officers and will want to know this." His voice was bland, but Swindle caught the faint prodding in his voice.

Blast Off straightened and looked Onslaught in the visor. "He may be, but you're leader of the Combaticons. I answer to you before I answer to _him._ " He said that last word with a bit of a sneer.

Onslaught nodded, pleased with the answer. "Continue. Did you reply to the transmission?"

"Affirmative. I informed him of the current condition of the Decepticons here on Chaar. To say he wasn't happy with it was an understatement."

"Can ya blame him?" asked Swindle with a grimace.

"Did he inform you of the state of the Decepticons on Beta Geode?" asked Onslaught.

"That… is the interesting part," Blast Off replied. "Technically, Shockwave and the mechs under his command are no longer Decepticons."

Onslaught's visor flashed, whether in anger or in simple confusion Swindle wasn't sure. "Oh? Explain further."

"Beta Geode is a planet of neutrals, led by an exiled Decepticon general," Blast Off explained. "And while they have no desire to fight under normal circumstances, they still rather outnumbered Shockwave and his troops when they reached the planet. Shockwave claims he saw it prudent to temporarily renounce their Decepticon status in order to gain sanctuary on the planet. The neutrals accepted him among their numbers, and he continues to build his forces in secret, biding his time to return to Cybertron and help overthrow the Autobots."

Onslaught nodded slowly. "Clever. Quite clever."

"Huh," was all Swindle could say. He'd known of Beta Geode and its status as a neutral world – slag, just a few years ago Thundercracker had nearly sent Glory there to keep her from getting upgraded prematurely. He hadn't thought Shockwave would take cover there, but it made sense when he thought about it. Shockwave had his flaws, but at least stupidity wasn't one of them. Unlike certain other mechs he could mention.

"Does Shockwave have any intention of joining us on Chaar?" asked Onslaught.

Blast Off snorted. "Hardly. He claims moving his base from an energy-rich world such as Beta Geode to a dead world like Chaar would be 'most illogical, not to mention highly suicidal.' He has invited us to join him there, however, as it would be an improvement over our current situation even if we have to become neutrals to do it. I told him I would have to discuss it with our commander first."

"And have you informed Cyclonus or Galvatron of this?"

"I informed my commander," Blast Off replied. "What you do with the information is up to you."

The other three Combaticons turned to face Onslaught, who had cupped his chin in his hand and was staring off into space. He seemed thoughtful, processing the information Blast Off had provided and making his own plans with it. That made Swindle relax a touch – anything that pleased Onslaught was fine by him. If only Galvatron and Cyclonus were so easy to satisfy…

"Good work, Blast Off," he said at last. "I trust you have coordinates for this world?"

"Of course," Blast Off replied, sounding just a bit offended. "I'm not so careless as to not note the location of a potentially valuable planet."

"Good." He lowered his hand and motioned for the Combaticons to follow him back to their canyon. "We carry on as before… but at least we have a safe sanctuary should the situation with Galvatron and Cyclonus become completely untenable."

"Un-tena-what?" Brawl repeated.

"Unbearable," Onslaught clarified.

"Ain't it unbearable already?" demanded Vortex.

"We will depart Chaar only if it seems our demise under Galvatron is imminent," Onslaught informed them. "Let it not be said that we abandoned the cause out of pure cowardice. If and when Galvatron and Cyclonus become completely unfit for command, however, we will depart for Beta Geode… and answer to the command of a competent leader."

Swindle frowned. "By that time we could all be dead, though. Why not go now and save ourselves some pain?"

"Are you questioning my orders?" Onslaught demanded, leveling a cool look upon the jeepformer.

"No sir," he replied quickly. "Just stating an opinion."

Onslaught snorted. "If you truly think the situation here is beyond your ability to cope, by all means, you are free to abandon your post and go. But if you leave without your teammates, then know that you will be abandoning your place among us… and the likelihood of you earning said place back will be rather slim." And with that vague threat, he strode off.

Swindle groaned. Sometimes he thought their leader was too cautious for their own good. Sure, he'd managed to keep the Combaticons alive and together during the past few years, and it was largely thanks to his efforts that they were able to avoid attracting much of Galvatron's attention. But here they were practically being handed an opportunity to get out from under their psychotic commander's thumb, and Onslaught was instead opting to stay on Chaar. He could see wanting to make the best of a bad situation, but not taking a clear shot at freedom just seemed pure stubbornness, if not stupidity.

He caught movement out of the corner of his optic, and he turned to see Glory standing nearby. He frowned, wondering how much of the conversation she'd overheard.

"Hey kid, what's up?" he asked, waving her closer. "How'd the mission go?"

"Terrible," she replied, kicking a rock as she approached him. "They had the Dinobots and the Aerialbots at the Mars base. We just barely got away intact."

He gave a low whistle at that. "Yikes… you okay? Dinobots didn't take a chunk out of you, did they?"

"The other way around, actually," she said with just a hint of a smile, though it faded quickly. "Galvatron wasn't too happy, though. He nearly shot Dead End's feet off."

"Yeah, that's par for the course for our beloved leader, I guess." He sighed and motioned for her to follow him. "That can't be the only reason you look so low, though. You look like you had a fight with your best friend."

"You're not that far off," she replied, but didn't seem to want to elaborate. Swindle thought about pushing the issue, but decided against it. She would talk when she was ready, he figured.

They had almost made it to the canyon before Glory spoke again. "The name Beta Geode sounds familiar… where is it?"

Swindle wasn't sure why that question set off a twinge of alarm through his systems, but it did. He tried to shove it away and answer casually. "Just a neutral colony off in some of the fringe systems. Some former Decepticons there, but it's not really strategically important."

"Oh." She frowned, as if trying to place the name. "Isn't that where Thundercracker tried to take me when I was a sparkling?"

"Um… yeah, I think so. When he thought you were being upgraded too early. You didn't make it there, needless to say." He forced a laugh at that. "Why the curiosity all of a sudden?"

"I just caught the end of your discussion with Onslaught," she replied. "You were talking about going there… why? You guys aren't defecting, are you?"

Swindle sighed. There was going to be no dancing around the subject, was there? "It was just an option we were discussing, kid. And Onslaught's against it anyhow. Apparently he'd rather stay here and make the best of things than go neutral. We're only leaving if things get so bad our lives are in danger."

"And they aren't already?" Glory muttered, making Swindle blink at the cynicism in her tone. "Why does Onslaught want to stay if things are so bad here?"

"I dunno, kid. Maybe it's pride – he doesn't want to be a coward. Or maybe he just thinks it's better to die a Decepticon than survive as a neutral. It's not like neutrals have the best reputation among Cybertronians, after all." He shrugged. "I don't know the answer, I'm not in his CPU."

Glory looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you think he could be staying because he thinks he can take Galvatron's place? Because he's planning his own takeover?"

Swindle halted in his tracks, just staring at Glory. What had brought THAT on? As far as he knew, Glory had shown no interest in how the leadership of the Decepticons changed hands before now. For her to suddenly bring it up like this was rather startling.

"Not so far as I know," Swindle said cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Is there any possibility of it?" she pressed. "Have you seen any sign that he-"

"Whoa, kid, slow down. Why so interested all of a sudden? If anyone takes over in Galvatron's place, it'll be Cyclonus, right?"

Glory narrowed her optics. "I'm not stupid, Swindle. And I'm not a little sparkling anymore. I know that when a Decepticon commander is replaced, it's usually because someone under his command got tired of him and thought he could make a better leader. And I know Galvatron's incompetent – I've watched him long enough to figure that out for myself, even if you've been trying to hide it from me. Someone's got to overthrow him, and soon, or the Decepticons are doomed."

Swindle felt his optics blaze brighter in shock with every word she spoke. He never thought the day would come when Glory, the wide-opticked young sparkling he had played teacher and caretaker to, would be speaking words that were tantamount to treason. Reluctantly he admitted that she was right about a few things, though – Galvatron WAS incompetent, and he HAD been doing his best to shield her from the worst of what was going on with the Decepticons. Maybe that had been a mistake, but he had wanted to try to preserve her innocence for as long as possible, even if she had been upgraded.

But now he had to acknowledge that Glory had grown up. Whether because time simply passed more quickly than he wanted, or she had been forced to mature faster due to the rough circumstances the Decepticons had faced these past few years, who could say? Probably a combination of both, really…

"Onslaught won't attempt a revolution," he said flatly. "He's more for laying low and trying to save our necks."

Glory sighed. "You can't convince him otherwise?"

"I've already tried convincing him the best way to save our necks is to get the slag off of Chaar, but he blew me off," Swindle retorted. "He's stubborn. As far as he's concerned, his way's not only the right way, but the only way."

"Like someone else we know," Glory said darkly. Then she shook her head, looking guilty. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said that. Onslaught's nothing like Galvatron."

"I know you didn't mean to insult him," Swindle assured her. "And seems like every Decepticon has stubbornness issues. Galvatron's just worse about it than most mechs." He cocked his head. "You seem awfully eager to find mechs willing to stage a coup, though."

"I just want Galvatron off the throne," she insisted. "And no, I don't want the job for myself, and I'm not doing this for my own gain. I just know the Decepticons will be better off without him. I thought Motormaster or Onslaught would be willing, but…" She spread her hands helplessly.

Now Swindle could guess what she had been up to before coming here, and he hoped this wouldn't affect her relationship with the Stunticons. They had regarded her as a little sister before, and it would be rather tragic if they were to give that up now. "If you're so eager to oust him, why don't you try it yourself?" he ventured.

She gave him a look as if he'd suddenly gone crazy. "I'm not strong enough, Swindle, and you know that! And I don't have nearly as much experience as the rest of you. If I went up against Galvatron, he'd kill me. I thought if I could find an ally, someone who's stronger and smarter and knows what they're doing, I could stand a chance."

"Hey kid, you're stronger and smarter than you think you are," he insisted.

"Not strong or smart enough," she countered. "At least I'm smart enough to know I can't do this alone. I need help."

He had to concede that point. "Who've you tried so far besides Motormaster?"

"He was my first choice," she admitted. "Onslaught was next, but after what you said I don't know if I dare approach him. I thought about approaching Soundwave, or Hook, or Astrotrain…"

"Don't go to Astrotrain," Swindle advised. "He might be willing, but he's an idiot. His idea of a revolution would probably be to sic a sentient train on him."

Despite her somber mood, Glory laughed softly at that. "That might be entertaining, at least. What about Hook or Soundwave?"

"Hmm… if I were you, I'd go with Hook. He might be a little stuck-up, but he does lead the Constructicons, which means you have smarts as well as Devastator on your side. I'd only go to Soundwave if Hook says no. No offense to the guy, but he's been way too quiet lately for my peace of mind."

"He's always like that."

"More so than usual, actually. At least when he was Megatron's lackey we had some idea of what was going on in his CPU. Now he's just been hiding in the shadows way too much. Dunno if he's loyal to Galvatron or plotting against him, or if he has other plans entirely." A thought occurred to him. "Do the cassettes talk to you much anymore? Maybe they have a little insight on what's up with him."

"They do, but they don't talk much about Soundwave. And he pretty much just ignores me. I guess he figures I'm just handy for keeping Rumble and Frenzy out from underfoot."

"Should have guessed as much. But don't dismiss him out of hand yet. If negotiations with Hook fall through, at least being friendly with the cassettes gives you something of an 'in' with Soundwave. We can hope, anyhow."

She smiled unexpectedly. "Thank you. I owe you for this."

"You owe me nothin', kid," he assured her. "Least I can do for TC's kid."

Her smile didn't fade, but her optics dimmed slightly at the mention of her uncle. "Do you think… he'd be proud of me?" she asked quietly. "Of what I've become?"

That, he wasn't so sure he could answer to her satisfaction. He wasn't so sure Thundercracker would have liked his niece plotting a revolt or discussing the assassination of their commander. Still, the blue Seeker hadn't been stupid, and even if he wouldn't have liked Glory's current actions, surely he wouldn't disagree with them. Maybe he would even have been helping her, advising her and being the source of wisdom and strength she needed to carry out her goals. Who knew?

"I think he'd support you," he decided on. "He loved you like his own creation. He would have done anything for you."

"Thank you," she murmured. "That means a lot to me."

"Not a problem, kid. Let's head on back. We can talk to Hook in the morning, when you're better rested."

"All right." She set off for the canyon, and he trailed behind.

Only when the Seeker and Combaticon had departed did the silent watcher emerge from behind a cluster of boulders. Buzzsaw shook himself, shedding a layer of dust, then spread his wings and took off, ready to deliver this latest news to his creator.


	13. Subterfuge

Once Buzzsaw had finished playing the recording of Glory and Swindle's conversation, Soundwave opened his chest and let the cassette-bird climb inside. Buzzsaw was shy and somewhat agoraphobic, disliking being away from his creator for long periods of time, but with Ravage laid up with a broken leg and the rest of the cassettes out on various reconnaissance missions, he was the only one available for keeping an optic on the Decepticons on Chaar. Soundwave didn't like forcing his cassettes into uncomfortable situations, but on some occasions it was necessary… and in this case it had paid off.

"So Glory is plotting against Galvatron," Shockwave noted, his voice somewhat distorted over the vidscreen. "This is an unexpected turn of events… but perhaps one we can use to our advantage."

"Glory's attention span: minimal," Soundwave said dismissively. "She will lose interest in the cause quickly. Aid: unreliable."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss her," Shockwave advised. "At this point, we will accept opportunity from any quarter… even if it's from a Decepticon as young and inexperienced as she."

This particular conference took place in a tunnel some distance from the base proper, doubtless the abandoned remains of some ill-fated mining venture. Soundwave had managed to scrounge enough components to cobble together a crude but workable communications array, allowing him to maintain contact with Shockwave via an encrypted channel. Galvatron seemed to have little use for a communications officer, preferring to dump everything on Cyclonus, and thus rarely seemed to miss the tape deck when he slipped off to contact his comrade. The former Guardian of Cybertron was proving to be a far more honest source of information regarding the state of the universe outside Chaar than Galvatron could ever hope to be… and a necessary ally for Soundwave's own plans.

Early on in their communications, they had come to the same conclusion – that if the Decepticons were to survive, Galvatron must die. How to accomplish that was a matter they had yet to resolve, however.

"Condition of Decepticon forces on Beta Geode," Soundwave requested.

"Our forces are small but growing," Shockwave replied. "A coded message has been broadcast through our sector of space, summoning as many Decepticons as are able to make the journey here. Within time, we may soon have a force large enough to overthrow Galvatron and his minions."

"Our time: limited," Soundwave pointed out. "Galvatron's peace treaty with Autobots: broken. Autobot retaliation: imminent."

Shockwave's headfins pinned back. "So our esteemed leader has broken the truce. I cannot say that I'm surprised. Disappointed, really – a clever leader could have played the truce for all it was worth, using it as the perfect opportunity to build up his forces for a deadly counterattack. It seems Galvatron is not only insane, but stupid."

Soundwave wasn't so sure about that. Insane he might be, but Galvatron had his moments of clarity, even brilliance, and showed signs of being a cunning leader. Too bad his internal malfunctions got in the way all too often.

He didn't voice that aloud, however. "We must accelerate the plan."

Shockwave's headfins flattened back even farther. "Accelerating the plan would be disastrous. Gathering our forces is one thing, but consolidating them into a cohesive fighting force is quite another. Even when our numbers were greater, divisions existed in our ranks that kept us from full effectiveness, and even now those divisions exist. If we are to overthrow Galvatron, we need to be fully united, not split into sub-factions."

"Galvatron's influence: toxic," Soundwave countered. "His presence widens the rifts between factions. Removing him from power will resolve this."

"Can you guarantee that?" demanded Shockwave, and if he'd had a proper face he might have been raising a sardonic optic ridge at the tape deck. "How many of Galvatron's troops are truly loyal to him, and how many do you deem are loyal to us?"

"Troops loyal to Galvatron: one. Only Cyclonus is truly loyal. Motivation for rest: fear."

"As I suspected," Shockwave noted. "Fear can be a powerful motivator. It keeps the Decepticons on Chaar from attempting revolt or desertion. Even those that do make it as far as Beta Geode are terrified to rise against him. We need something stronger to unite the Decepticons, something that can counter their fear of Galvatron's power and madness."

Soundwave was silent, waiting for Shockwave to suggest something.

"Glory is bold to speak of rebellion so close to Galvatron," Shockwave went on. "At least one of his underlings is not afraid to take matters into their own hands. And at least one other mech shares our cause."

"Glory is too young," Soundwave protested. "Inexperienced and naïve. Ignorant of the ways of the Decepticons and the universe."

"You would be surprised what sort of accomplishments can be made in ignorance," Shockwave replied. "Perhaps a young, untried Seeker will be the ally we need to overthrow Galvatron."

Soundwave rather doubted that himself. Then again, it was hard to see someone as a noble revolutionary when they used to cling to your legs and stuff your weapons full of glittery confetti on a regular basis. Even years later, he was still accustomed to thinking of Glory as a sparkling, not a fully-fledged Decepticon warrior.

"You wish me to summon Glory here?" he asked.

Shockwave pondered a moment, then shook his head. "Not yet. I want to see what she does on her own, and what she is capable of. Perhaps we'll be lucky and her efforts at a coup will succeed. If she fails, however, do whatever it takes to ensure she survives. Then, and only then, will we intervene."

* * *

Hook didn't even bother to look up from his datapad as Glory walked into the repair bay. "Unless you're leaking to death, suffering a full system crash, or are carrying your own severed components, get out."

"Glad to see you too," she replied, pulling a stool over with her foot and sitting down on it. "I need to talk to you, Hook."

"Later," he replied. "I'm quite busy at the moment."

"That's fine. I can wait." She settled in and watched him as he scanned the datapad, occasionally making notes on another 'pad at his side. Was he making an inventory or acquisition list, or studying some sort of medical text?

After a few minutes Hook gusted a sigh and set the datapad aside. "Fine, say what you came to say. I can't work with you staring at me like that."

She couldn't help a bit of a smile at that. "I was counting on that, actually. Why do you think I didn't leave when you told me to?"

Hook snorted. "You may be Thundercracker's niece, but you have Skywarp's penchant for deliberately getting on one's sensory circuits. What do you want?"

She glanced around the tiny repair bay, making sure they were alone. None of the other Constructicons were around, and Hook didn't appear to have any patients at the moment, so she judged it safe to continue. "I need your help, Hook."

"Let me guess," he said disdainfully. "Some mech has caught your fancy and you want some sort of cosmetic upgrade to get his attention. Go see someone else about that – I have better things to do than cater to the whims of a vain newbuilt…"

"Hook!" she exclaimed, grimacing. "I'm not here for that! And besides, none of the mechs here even appeal to me. Seriously, who am I going to fancy here, a Sweep? I'd sooner kiss a Dinobot."

"At least you have some standards," Hook noted. "What are you here for, then?"

She leaned forward slightly, hoping she could word this well enough to hold his attention. "I want to make a deal with you. I want your help in overthrowing Galvatron."

Hook's visor flashed at that. He rose from the table, strode toward the medbay doors, and shut and locked them. Then he made his way back to the table and sat down, folding his hands before him. "Keep talking."

Well, he hadn't kicked her out at that. That was a hopeful sign. "Galvatron's getting more and more unstable. He's almost killed us multiple times, and he blames us for all his failings. And even worse, he's broken our truce with the Autobots. They could retaliate against us any day now, and we're completely unable to fight them off. If this keeps up, he's going to lead us to our extinction."

Hook nodded. "All old news, Glory. Tell me something I don't know."

"The Decepticons need a new leader," she pressed. "One who's not only strong, but smart and knows what he's doing. Hook, you're one of the smartest mechs on Chaar, and as the leader of the Constructicons and the one who controls Devastator, you'd be a far better leader than Galvatron could ever hope to be. If you could help me defeat him… then the Decepticon throne would be yours to take."

Hook almost smiled at her praise. "Such flattery, young one. Not entirely unwarranted, mind you… but what's in it for you? When I'm leader of the Decepticons, what are you going to want in return?"

"Nothing," she insisted. "I just want to see a proper leader take charge of the Decepticons. Not the joke of a commander we've got now. Someone who can rebuild the Decepticons and help them take Cybertron back. Someone who can get us home again."

"And so you try to bribe another mech into doing your dirty work for you?" Hook asked dryly.

She sighed deeply. Why didn't anyone trust her? "I'd do it myself if I thought I could. But I'm not strong enough to take him on my own. I need an ally."

"An ally you'll promptly abandon once you've accomplished your goal? How am I to know you won't stab me in the back and seize command the moment Galvatron's spark is snuffed?"

Was he purposefully trying to bait her into something? "I promise you, Hook… if you help me defeat Galvatron and put him out of power, I won't stand in your way while you take command of the Decepticons."

Hook's visor flashed again, as if she'd spoken the very words he'd wanted to hear. "Swear it."

"I swear it on the Well of All Sparks."

"Good enough." He extended a hand across the table. "I take you up on your offer, Glory. We overthrow Galvatron together."

She clasped his hand in hers, sealing the bargain. Her spark shivered a bit in a sudden thrill of fear. With this meeting, this deal, there was no going back. They would either topple Galvatron from the throne, or suffer whatever consequences awaited a traitor under the tyrant's command. There would be no third option, and no escaping the deal now.

"So did you come here with any sort of plan?" Hook asked, releasing her hand. "Or will that be up to me?"

"This isn't something I decided yesterday," she replied. "I've been watching Galvatron and Cyclonus for a few years now, trying to find their weaknesses."

"And?"

"Cyclonus has no weak spots that I can see… but he himself is Galvatron's weak spot. Cyclonus is the one thing that keeps the Decepticons from completely falling apart under Galvatron's rule. He enforces his commands, makes some amount of sense out of his plans, and protects him from any attempts on his life. If Cyclonus is out of commission, it's only a matter of time before Galvatron self-destructs or the Decepticons turn against him."

Hook nodded. "Excellent deduction. Though have you thought about how we're going to eliminate Cyclonus?"

She hesitated. "I was hoping you would have some ideas. You're more experienced than I am."

"Not at assassination," he admitted. "But a sufficiently clever CPU should be able to come up with something… hmmm." He tapped a finger against his chin as he considered. "Cyclonus is one of the more powerful Decepticons. If we're going to offline him, we need to use stealth. Simply challenging him to a fight will be suicidal."

"We could go after him in his recharge, perhaps?" asked Glory. "And we wouldn't have to kill him… just damage him enough that he's unable to perform his duties."

"You're too soft-sparked, young one," Hook admonished. "If we merely incapacitate him, Galvatron will just order him repaired and he'll take his revenge on us. If we're going to do this, we're doing it right. I'll not leave a loose end that can come back to ensnare us."

Her fuel tank clenched in disgust. Deep down, she knew she wouldn't be able to get out of this without oil on her hands, but she had been hoping that they could keep the kill count down by at least one life. She hated Cyclonus, but perhaps, if he knew Galvatron was dead, he would submit to another leader and not be so fanatical and difficult. Hook's answer might be the safer, more efficient way, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"Still, the idea has some merit," he confessed. "The trick would be sneaking into his quarters to do the deed without waking him up. He's a notoriously light recharger, and who knows what sort of security measures he has set up in his quarters." He rested his elbows on the table and steepled his hands before him, pondering. "We need to catch him asleep on the job, as it were, and someplace where he's vulnerable."

A wild idea clicked into place in Glory's CPU at that moment, and hope flared in her spark in response. "What about the medbay?"

Hook gazed up at her, and had his optic ridges been visible he might have been arching one at her curiously. "What about it?"

"He has to come in for repairs or maintenance sometime, doesn't he?" she went on. "What if you happened to find some sort of malfunction during the examination that needs to be repaired immediately… and if it was something you had to put him under to take care of?"

Hook was silent a moment as he considered her words. "Galvatron's blasted lieutenant offline and vulnerable on my own operating table…" He smiled wickedly. "Perfect. He can't come online unexpectedly in the middle of the attempt, and he won't suspect a thing." He reached out and patted Glory's arm. "You're thinking like a true Decepticon."

Glory shivered a bit at that. If thinking about how best to kill another mech was thinking like a true Decepticon… she shoved that thought away. This was for the good of her friends, and of the Decepticons as a whole. If she had to dirty her own hands to protect those she cared about… then so be it.

"When… when would we do it?" she asked.

"He's not scheduled for another maintenance scan for another lunar cycle," Hook replied. "I doubt we can wait that long, however… do you and him ever do flight drills together?"

"He won't have anything to do with any of the other fliers," she said disdainfully. "It's like he thinks the Seekers are beneath him."

"Hmm… still, there have to be times when the two of you occupy the same airspace. If you were to have some sort of mishap that would result in damages – say an air collision – we could get him into the repair bay sooner."

She winced. Air collisions were among the messiest and most painful accidents a flier could have. Her uncle had told her horror stories of mechs losing limbs and wings, shredding internal components, and even getting torn apart due to such accidents. He hadn't gone as far as to show her images of the victims of collisions (despite Starscream's repeated suggestions), but her imagination had done more than enough to fill the gaps. And Hook had to have seen such victims cross his operating table before, so for him to so casually suggest she deliberately cause a collision seemed a little sadistic to her.

Still, there weren't a lot of other options. Firing on Cyclonus would earn her a death sentence, and simply grazing or nicking him wouldn't be serious enough for him to go to Hook. She would have to hit him in midair… and she would have to make it look like an accident. That would be the tricky part, but she figured she could manage it when the time came.

"I can arrange it sometime in the next few days," she replied.

"It doesn't have to be you precisely," Hook told her. "Perhaps you can talk one of the other Seekers into it."

"I can try." She rather doubted Thrust's trine would be willing to help her, however – they spent most of their time trying to hide from Galvatron, and the few times they ever showed their faces around the base they mostly pretended she didn't exist. "One way or another, Cyclonus should be paying you a visit within the next week."

"Excellent." He chuckled softly. "This has been a most productive discussion. I look forward to the eventual shift in our leadership."

She didn't know what to say in response, so she settled for simply standing and turning to go.

"Oh, and Glory?"

She turned slightly. "Hook?"

"Do try not to get killed. The Decepticons can't afford to lose another soldier, even if it is for a noble cause."

She nodded. "Hook… thank you."

"No… thank YOU."

As she left the repair bay she couldn't suppress a tremor of apprehensive excitement. It was happening… they were finally going to be free from Galvatron's mad clutches. Part of her protested that this was all happening much too fast, but the rest of her was simply thrilled that someone had finally agreed to help her. And more than that, they had an actual plan set in motion. This was far more than she could have hoped for just an hour ago.

A couple of Sweeps lurked around a corner, exchanging small talk, and she tried not to make optic contact with them as she passed them by. It felt as if they were staring at her, reading her body language and realizing she was up to something. Now that she was actively engaged in a plot that could be counted as treason, she felt as if her every move would betray her, as if every mech she saw could see what she was planning and would report her at the first opportunity…

She shook her head and pressed on to her quarters. The safest thing to do at this point would be to tell no one of the plan. Not even Swindle or the cassettes would know what she was about to do, and she trusted that Hook would be smart enough to not let the rest of the Constructicons in on the secret. If they kept this to themselves, they wouldn't risk betrayal. It was their best hope to succeed.

* * *

"You need to find yourself a better hiding spot."

"GAAAH!" Rumble leaped nearly a foot in the air, dropping the datapad he'd filched. He whirled, gun in hand, to face the intruder, but relaxed a touch the moment he spotted who it was. "Don't scare a mech like that! Primus…"

"For being one of our top spies, you pick lousy hiding places," Swindle noted, peering over the cluster of boulders where Rumble had taken refuge. "Whatcha got there?"

"None of your fraggin' business," Rumble muttered, snatching up the datapad and stowing it into subspace. "Why're you so nosy anyhow?"

"Excuse me for asking a simple question," Swindle huffed. "What, you're trying to hide something?"

Rumble just glared, figuring he could always use his piledrivers to make a distraction and bolt if Swindle pressed the issue. Soundwave didn't want any mech knowing his and Shockwave's plot unless they were absolutely sure of their loyalty, and seeing as Swindle's loyalty could be bought by the highest bidder, they weren't about to take a chance trusting him with any of their information. Thankfully Swindle hadn't recognized the datapad as being stolen from Cyclonus' office…

"Never mind then," Swindle muttered. "You haven't seen Glory lately, have you?"

"Nuh-uh. Just got back from my last mission. Haven't had time to talk to the kid."

"She's not a kid anymore."

Rumble snorted in laughter. "I'm old enough to be her creator. Seeker or not, she's always gonna be 'kid' to me."

Swindle didn't argue that point. "Do you know if she's talked to Soundwave at all?"

"Nope. Not that I know of, anyhow. Why?"

The Combaticon frowned. "Weird…"

"What's eatin' ya, Swin? Still tryin' to keep tabs on the kid? She's old enough to take care of herself, ya know."

"Just… worried, is all."

"Worried about what? C'mon, spill it!"

"You're going to harass me until I tell you what's going on, aren't you?"

Rumble grinned. "You know me too well. Now start talkin' or you're gonna wake up in the morning with a Hello Kitty paint job."

Swindle half-sighed, half-groaned. "I guess she won't mind if I tell you… you're one of her best friends after all." He crouched down, lowering his voice. "She's talking about overthrowing Galvatron."

Rumble had to reboot his audials to be sure of what he was hearing. "Say that again."

"She's talking about overthrowing Galvatron. And she's looking for allies. Soundwave was on her list of mechs to talk to, and I was just trying to see if she'd approached him yet and how it went. She's been way too quiet the past few days, and I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one."

Rumble gave a low whistle. So Buzzsaw hadn't been joking when he'd pinged his brothers with the news. When he and Frenzy had heard about Glory's conversation with Swindle, the two of them had laughed it off as a complete joke and assumed Buzzsaw had been pulling their legs. Hearing the bird had been speaking the truth just opened up a whole new slew of questions, though – such as how was Glory going to pull this off on her own, why hadn't Soundwave recruited her to their cause, was Swindle going to sell the kid out now that he knew about her traitorous plans…

"Gutsy," was all he said aloud. "Knew that kid was gonna make an interestin' 'Con when she grew up. Guess she's gonna prove me right. She found anyone to help her yet?"

"That's what I've been trying to find out," Swindle replied. "I suggested she talk to either Soundwave or Hook about it, and was just checking to see if she'd done it yet. Hook just called me an idiot and threw me out of the medbay, so I assume Glory already approached him and got no for an answer. I was hoping you could tell me if she'd talked to Soundwave yet."

"Not that I know of."

Swindle sighed again. "If she gets a no from him, then I just hope she drops this whole idea. I know she wants to be helpful… but this is going to get her killed."

"You worry too much," Rumble chuckled. "She's a tough little scrapper. Always has been. She'll be okay."

The roar of thrusters cut into their discussion, and the two of them glanced up to see Cyclonus soaring overhead in jet form, cutting across the lead-colored sky. Rumble suppressed a smirk at the sight. How many times had Glory complained that Cyclonus' flight skills lacked artistry, that he had no passion for what he did in the air? Rumble wasn't a jet-former, but even he had to agree with her – the lieutenant was a skilled flier, but he went through his aerial maneuvers mechanically, without flair and the obvious love of flight that Glory always had and that her uncle had matched.

Speaking of the kid, she soared by just moments after Cyclonus had passed overhead, twisting through the air in a graceful barrel roll. Rumble couldn't help a smile, feeling a surge of pride at seeing her. She certainly had her uncle's skill in the air, and seemed to actually enjoy her flights – unlike Cyclonus, who seemed to see flight drills as a chore that must be endured.

"I just want to protect her," Swindle went on, as if their conversation had never been interrupted. "I promised her uncle I'd keep her safe. If anything ever happens to her, I'll never forgive myself."

"Dude, you can't coddle her forever," Rumble countered. "Sparklings grow up. They screw up, fall and get hurt, fail at things. It's how they learn. Ya gotta let her push her limits and see what she can do, even if it means she crashes and burns a few times."

Swindle gave him a puzzled look. "When did you become so wise and all-knowing, Master Yoda?"

"Hey, I'm just speakin' the truth-"

At that moment, disaster struck. Glory had pulled up to attempt a particularly tricky maneuver, flying vertically with her nosecone pointing skyward for a few moments. Even as a non-flier, Rumble knew it was a difficult and dangerous move, not the least because it rendered the jet virtually blind during said trick. And unbeknownst to the young Seeker, her trick had put her right in the path of Cyclonus, who had banked around and was heading back for the base… and straight for Glory.

Before either the cassette or the Combaticon could shout out a warning, the two jets slammed into each other. The horrific boom of the impact and the screech of tearing metal drowned out any cries either jet might have made.

"GLORY!" Swindle took off running, optics bright with horror. Rumble was right on his heels, swearing long and creatively. Frag it all, why hadn't the stupid Air Commander looked where he was going? Or had he just assumed that everyone he met would just automatically get out of his way and it was their fault if they didn't?

Cyclonus hit the ground first, skidding a good fifty feet before coming to a halt, smoke billowing from his thrusters and from the stump that remained of his right wing. Glory's crash-landing was far more spectacular – she tried to touch down normally but hit the ground at a bad angle, and she tumbled and cartwheeled for an agonizingly long time before finally coming to rest. She, too, smoked ominously from her thrusters, and her entire frame was badly crumpled and dented from the collision and crash. Her wings were shredded, and oil and energon bled freely from deep gashes in her underbelly.

"Kid!" Rumble dashed to her side, wincing at how much worse her damages looked up close. "Kid, can you hear me? Talk to me!"

"Glory!" Swindle, too, hurried to the jet's side, crouching beside her and placing a careful hand on her side. "Glory, please be alive, please…"

For a pump-stopping moment she didn't respond. Then a soft whimper emerged from her vocalizer, and a shudder ran along the length of her chassis.

"You're going to be all right," Swindle promised her. "Can you transform?"

"No," she moaned, voice faint. "Something's… jammed…"

"Don't try to force it," he urged. "And no more talking. Redirect as much power as you can to your self-repair." He touched the side of his helm as he made a radio call. "Combaticons, I need a hand here! Glory took a crash, we need to get her to the repair bay!"

A deep groan caught Rumble's attention, and he turned to see Cyclonus transforming. While the Air Commander looked to be in better shape than Glory, he still looked like he'd been run over by Metroplex – he was missing an arm as well as a wing, and gashes and tears marred his chest and torso. He shot Swindle and Glory a venomous glare before turning and limping toward the repair bay, clutching the stump of his missing limb.

Had he not been so worried about Glory at the moment, Rumble probably would have made faces or flashed a rude gesture at Cyclonus now that his back was turned. Trust the mech to blame Glory for this whole mess, despite the fact that he could have looked where the frag he was going for a change. Besides, why would anyone deliberately cause a collision, especially when it made such a painful mess for both parties involved?

"Onslaught and the team are on their way," Swindle reported. "Rumble, can you run on ahead and let Hook know he's got a serious collision victim heading his way? Or… two, I suppose…"

"Can do," Rumble replied, and bolted for the repair bay. Privately he thought that if Cyclonus could walk to the medbay, he could slagging well wait for repairs. But he suspected the fragger was going to pull rank and insist that he be completely repaired before Glory even saw as much as a pain-reduction program. Primus, he hated the fact that it always seemed like the biggest jerks were in charge.

* * *

Cyclonus scowled at Hook, as if by his very gaze he could make the surgeon wither away on the spot. "Are you so incompetent at what you do that you cannot make repairs to me while I'm still online? I was under the impression you were the best at what you do."

Hook fought the urge to sigh, groan, whack his patient with a wrench, or exhibit any sign that he was reaching the end of his patience. "For the fifth time, sir, this will go much more smoothly if you simply consent to being shut down during the procedure. There's much more to do than simply reattach your wing and arm – I must close those wounds in your chassis, and most of them appear deep enough that I'm certain you've sustained internal damages. And it's nearly impossible to conduct repairs on internal components while the patient is still online. Besides, it will be far less painful if you are offline for the repairs."

Cyclonus snorted. "I am not weak. I can withstand the pain."

"Yes, sir, but I would rather not risk one of your internal systems misfiring in the middle of a delicate procedure and causing even further damage. I only ask that you shut yourself down for an hour or so. That will give me ample time to repair you and close your chassis up without complications."

The Air Commander regarded Hook coldly, and for a moment Hook began to wonder if it wasn't simple stubbornness that prevented him from acquiescing. Did Cyclonus suspect what he was up to? Was he somehow aware of their plan, and was doing everything possible to botch it for them?

In the end, though, he relented. "Fine. You have half an hour." He turned to address the rest of the Constructicons. "You will see to it that I am brought back online when the time is up, whether or not Hook is finished by then."

"Yes sir," Bonecrusher replied, infusing his tone with as much disdain as he possibly could. Cyclonus ignored his insolence and lay back on the berth.

"Commencing the operation, then," Hook announced, taking the shutdown device from his equipment tray and touching it to Cyclonus' neck. "Shutdown in three, two, one…"

A soft buzz issued from the device, and Cyclonus' optics went dark, his joints slowly relaxing as he slipped offline. In marked contrast, Hook felt every servo and cable in his body tense. This was it… he'd get only one chance at this. He had to make it count.

"Scrapper, stand by to assist. Everyone else, see to Glory and ensure she's stabilized and free of pain." He unlatched Cyclonus' chest plate and opened it, surveying the damage.

"Doesn't look that bad," Scrapper noted. "You could have done this without shutting him down."

Hook shook his head. "For what I had planned, he needed to be offline and unaware." He reached down to trace a fuel line's path with a fingertip, surveying the damages. Hopefully at least one of these wounds crossed a vital system – it would be a simple matter to exacerbate said injury and speed his termination along. Failing that, though, he could simply fake a hardware malfunction and claim the shock of the collision had done him in…

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" Scrapper asked abruptly.

Hook felt his spark sputter in response, and he forced himself to pause and collect his thoughts before looking up to meet his fellow Constructicon's visor. It was impossible to discern his expression, but he could practically feel the calculating stare being leveled upon him. Was his own teammate about to destroy him for treason?

"The Decepticons would be better off without this mech," he said carefully, pitching his voice just low enough that the others couldn't hear. "You know that. He is a scourge and a stain upon our kind, and is of more worth to us dead than alive."

Scrapper's stare never wavered. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Knowing the answer could very well bring his death, he answered: "Yes. Yes, I am going to offline him, and do it in such a way as to make it seem the result of his crash."

Scrapper gazed at him a moment longer, then nodded. "What can I do to aid you?"

Hook allowed himself a slight smile of relief. "Open a few of the fuel lines directly around the damaged areas, and scuff up the paint a little more. We want this to look worse than it really was." He tapped a finger against Cyclonus' spark chamber, noting that one of the tears in his chest had veered dangerously close to the very source of his life. "A few cracks in this should speed the inevitable, and if we alter his chest wound to match then no one would be the wiser."

Scrapper chuckled dryly. "Should I be concerned the next time I cross your operating table?"

"Don't give me cause to damage you and you won't," Hook replied, then raised his voice. "Long Haul, status report on the femme."

"She's stable," Long Haul replied. "Going to need an energon transfusion, but otherwise she's hangin' in there. When can we start her repairs?"

"As soon as I'm sure Cyclonus will not be a problem," Hook replied. He mulled over his tools, finally deciding on a small hammer – an item normally used for loosening locked joints or pounding out dents. It would do for fracturing a spark casing, he supposed…

A hand clamped onto Hook's wrist, freezing him in place.

"Clever, Hook." Cyclonus' voice was never one for being warm and welcoming, but Hook had never heard it this cold and deadly. "Far too clever for your own good. Now drop it."

Hook released the hammer, letting it clang back onto the tray. "You came online much sooner than expected, sir."

Cyclonus smirked. "I never went offline at all. More primitively built mechs might be forced into shutdown by your contraption, but Galvatron and I have backup systems." His grip tightened, and Hook grimaced as pain seared up his arm. "I heard it all, Hook. And you and your comrade will suffer for this."

Scrapper lunged, a laser scalpel raised to plunge into Cyclonus' spark. Cyclonus kicked out, his foot catching the bulldozer in the chestplate and slamming him back into the wall. The sound of the impact startled the other four Constructicons out of their focus on Glory, and they turned to stare at Cyclonus as he hauled himself upright, never releasing his death grip on Hook's wrist.

"Constructicons, place Scrapper and Hook under arrest," he ordered coldly. "They are guilty of treason against myself, and by extension against Galvatron. They shall be punished for their crimes against the Decepticons."

Hook snorted. "The Constructicons are loyal to me, Cyclonus. Do you honestly expect them to side with you over their leader?"

"Perhaps… but if I were to tell them that refusing to obey my commands results in instant deactivation, perhaps they will change their minds."

"We outnumber you," Hook retorted. "We can easily overpower you."

"Perhaps… but can you overpower the Sweeps?" His smirk deepened as the doors to the repair bay slid open, and a dozen of the blue mechs began to crowd into the repair bay, pushing past the stunned Constructicons and moving to surround Hook and Scrapper. "If your comrades have any intelligence, they will know not to interfere."

Hook struggled to control his panic, and played the last card in his hand. "Without myself and Scrapper, Devastator is powerless. You will effectively destroy one of our few precious gestalts simply to brand us traitors?"

Cyclonus tightened his grip, and Hook snarled in pain, his damage readout registering crush damage to his wrist joint. "We can find ways to make Devastator work without you two. If we cannot… it is a small price to pay to weed out the infidels in our ranks."

Clawed hands grabbed Hook's arms and forced them behind his back, fastening cuffs to his wrists. On the other side of the room, Scourge hauled a still-dazed Scrapper to his feet and turned him around so the Sweeps could cuff his hands as well. Bonecrusher, Mixmaster, Scavenger, and Long Haul merely watched, and when Hook caught Mixmaster's gaze the chemist simply spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. Team loyalty only went so far, apparently, and none of them were willing to put their necks on the line to come to their leaders' defenses.

"Get Swindle in here," Cyclonus ordered. "He will stand in as our medic. Get this scum to the brig immediately."


	14. Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was heavily inspired by "Defying Gravity," from the musical "Wicked." And yes, I imagine adult Glory as sounding like Idina Menzel. (I established this in my head even before "Frozen" made her a household name, and despite "Frozen" being WAY overplayed by now I like it too much to "let it go," haha...)
> 
> The opening dream sequence comes from an RP I did with a friend, StarWarsGuru. Credit for that lovely fragment of nightmare goes to her...

_Darkness… but not blackness. She was drifting, propelled through the vastness of space by a force not her own. Stars glowed all around her like crystal fragments scattered upon the blackness, and the swirls and billows of nebulae and galaxies shone like luminescent smoke. Awe filled her spark as she took it all in, until she thought she would burst with wonder at the beauty of it. How could anyone refer to space as empty or a wasteland, when it was filled with such fantastic sights?_

_She felt his presence before he actually placed a hand on her shoulder… and before she heard a snippet of a familiar song._

" _It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside…"_

_She turned, a stab of disbelief piercing her spark. Could it be…?_

_Thundercracker smiled back at her, starlight gleaming on his sky-blue armor, optics shining kindly. "Glory…"_

" _Uncle T…" she sobbed, throwing her arms around him. "You're alive…"_

_He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her. "I love you, Glory."_

_It was as if he'd never left. She felt as if she were a child again, curled up in his protective embrace, wanting nothing more than a song, a story, anything to hear his voice again. It had been so long, and she hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye… had Primus granted her that chance? Or even better, had he been restored to life, just as Optimus Prime had? Had she been granted a miracle?_

" _Don't leave me," she murmured, trying to stifle her crying. "Please…"_

_His grip on her tightened. "I'll never leave you, Glory…"_

_Her spark clenched at the sudden shift in his voice – deeper, somehow sounding hollow. The comfort and joy she had felt just moments ago vanished like a snuffed candle, leaving a sinking dread in its place. She pulled her face away from his chest to look up in his optics._

_She couldn't suppress a gasp of shock. His optics were no longer red, but an acidic, unnatural green._

" _Glory…" He growled the word, and even as she watched his visage began to shift before her optics. The familiar face of her uncle melted and changed to that of a stranger, a horned mech with a scowling expression seemingly frozen onto his features. His wings split apart, becoming horrifying skeletal appendages behind his shoulders, and his armor yellowed and shifted to fit a stockier frame…_

_She recognized the creature in that instant, and she screamed._

" _I'll never leave you," Unicron growled, a sinister, almost hungry smile crossing his fanged mouth, and he tightened his grip until he was nearly crushing her. "Glory…"_

She jerked awake, and would have sat bolt upright had a flash of pain not kept her where she lay. Her fans kicked in to cool a body rapidly overheating in panic, and her limbs shook despite all her efforts to still them. For a wild, disorienting moment she wondered if it had truly been a nightmare, or if this was the dream and the horrifying scene she had just left was the real world.

"Hold still." The voice was curt and crisp, but no less familiar for it, and she felt a rush of relief at it. Swindle was here… which could only mean she was alive and awake. She wasn't trapped in Unicron's clutches, but back at the base.

Raising her head just slightly, she looked around to get her bearings. She was in the tiny medical bay at Decepticon base, occupying one of the two berths while Swindle finished up her repairs. The Constructicons were nowhere to be seen… and more disturbingly, there were dents in the walls and scrapes on the other berth, as if there had been a fight of some sort.

Memory returned in a rush, and she felt as if someone had dropped a rock in her fuel tanks. Swindle doing her repairs, the repair bay bearing signs of a struggle, Hook and the others missing… that didn't bode well for the plan. Or perhaps it had succeeded, and Hook was off securing his leadership and leaving Swindle to finish things in his stead? Hope warred with apprehension in her spark, and she looked over at the Combaticon to see if she could glean any clues from him as to which way their fortune had swung.

His expression quickly killed her hope. She had never seen Swindle look so angry. He wore a hard scowl as he worked, movements brisk and businesslike, and he made no move to make optic contact with her. She might as well have been a lifeless chunk of machinery he was making repairs to, and not a fellow Decepticon, let alone a friend.

"Swindle?" she ventured.

Swindle didn't look up from applying a final coat of paint to the weld marks on her wings.

"Swindle… what happened?" she tried again. "What's wrong?"

He still didn't lift his gaze to meet hers, but he spoke up at last. "I hope you're satisfied with what you've done."

His words cut deep, leaving a hollow feeling of dread in her spark. "What do you mean? Where are the Constructicons?"

Swindle's optics flashed in barely suppressed anger. "Hook and Scrapper are in the brig, waiting for Galvatron and Cyclonus to decide what to do with them. Whatever it is, it ain't gonna be pretty – Cyc wants an example made out of them. The rest are off hiding somewhere, afraid they'll be next."

Then it had failed. Hook had failed to eliminate Cyclonus, and it had gone horribly for him. That realization was almost more painful than the collision had been. Was it all for nothing, then?

"Cyc doesn't suspect you yet," Swindle went on, his words clipped as if he were trying not to yell. "At this point he seems to think it was an accident and that Hook just took advantage of circumstances. Don't mean he won't smell something suspicious later and come nosing for clues, so I suggest you lay low until this whole thing blows over, however long it takes."

She winced. The last thing she wanted was Cyclonus' suspicion on her. A small part of her felt relief that she was at least free to try again somehow, but the rest of her felt only a crushing guilt that the plan had not only backfired, but had landed Hook in serious trouble. Why Scrapper was also involved she had no idea; perhaps Hook had needed a co-conspirator, or Cyclonus had simply assumed that Hook must have had a collaborator and made a wrong guess as to who it was.

"Dammit, Glory," Swindle growled, letting his anger surface at last as he tossed the applicator aside. "I told you to be careful! Instead you got our best medic accused of treason!"

"Swindle, I didn't think…" she protested.

"That's obvious," Swindle snapped. "I expected you to be smarter than this, to actually have a solid plan to back you up, not some half-baked plot!"

"I thought you supported me!" she snapped back, optics burning as cleanser built up. "I thought you were on my side!"

"I thought you would actually think things through instead of rushing ahead with the first idea in your CPU!" He stood and began angrily pacing the repair bay, gesturing wildly. "When you came to me spewing plans for treason I wanted to talk you out of it, but I thought you knew what you were doing, and were smart enough to think things through all the way. Now I see I shoulda told you to knock it off!"

"Someone has to stand up to those two," Glory retorted. "If no one else will, am I supposed to just stand back and wait for a miracle? Or for the Decepticons to fall apart because no one has the gears to fight back? Onslaught won't, Motormaster won't, who knows what Soundwave wants, and no other general or commander has come to Chaar to overthrow Galvatron themselves! If we don't do something, nobody will!"

Swindle whirled to glare at her, optics flashing. "I promised your uncle I'd keep you safe, Glory! How am I supposed to do that when you do something stupid like this? I can't cover for you forever, and if you keep this up, sooner or later Cyc is gonna realize what you're up to and kill you! Don't you get it?"

"I'm not a sparkling anymore, Swindle," she fired back. "I can handle myself. If you won't help me or support me, then just back off and let me do this!"

"No, Glory. No more." He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. "This ends now. I want you to promise me you won't try again. That you'll give up on this revolt of yours. It'll only get us all killed… and get you hurt."

She pulled her hand free of his grip, bitter betrayal stinging her spark. "That's a promise I can't make."

"Primus, kid, don't be stubborn." The anger had leached out of his voice, leaving a fearful concern that startled her. "Kid… please. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a sparkling of my own. And I know you don't think of me as family, but please, do this for me as a friend. Give this up and keep yourself safe. I've lost too much in the war… I won't lose you too."

She blinked, floored by his sudden outburst. She had no idea he'd felt that way. She'd looked up to him as a friend and teacher, but never as an adoptive parent – that role had been filled by Thundercracker and, to a lesser extent, Skywarp. That knowledge touched her, and nearly made her want to say yes, if only to avoid hurting him.

"I can't, Swindle," she replied softly. "You know I can't. Because if this goes on, we'll both end up losing everyone we care about." And she swung her legs over the side of the berth and stood, wincing as her fresh repairs sent flickers of pain through her sensors.

"Kid…"

"I'm sorry, Swindle. I really am." She didn't stick around to hear him try to dissuade her again, but strode out of the repair bay, gaze down on the floor, avoiding optic contact with everyone she passed by.

So even Swindle now thought she should give up. Never mind that he thought it was for her safety – knowing that the one she had regarded as a friend and mentor for so long wouldn't be in her corner for this fight hurt. Was there no one in this base brave enough to take a stand against their mad leader and his bootlicking lackey? Had Galvatron and Cyclonus cowed them so much that they would follow him like a pack of whipped turbo-curs, even if it was to their dooms?

Would her uncle have stood for this? She liked to think not – he might not have been the toughest fighter in Megatron's forces, but he had been brave and honorable. And he had even been willing to defy Megatron when he thought what he was doing was wrong, despite knowing his actions could have gotten him killed. And had he still been alive, she was sure he would have been on her side in this matter. He might have been just as overprotective of her as Swindle, not wanting her to risk her own life, but at least he would have DONE something.

Something clipped her in the side, sending her reeling into the wall.

"Watch it, Seeker."

Glory looked up… and felt her spark turn to ice. She had just run into Cyclonus. The lieutenant glared at her, optics narrowed, and for a terrifying moment she wondered if he suspected her…

"You seem to have a problem with collisions lately," he noted coldly. "Watch where you're going from here on out, Seeker. We wouldn't want anyone else damaged… not when we can prevent it." That last he said with a dry, sinister smile, and he strode off before she could respond.

Her internals clenched in sudden panic. _He knows... he knows and he's toying with me… he's going to taunt me with it until I crack and incriminate myself…_

She shook her head and hurried off to her quarters. No use working herself into hysterics. For all she knew, he suspected her involvement but didn't know for sure, and was only trying to provoke a reaction out of her. If she allowed herself to believe that he knew she had deliberately caused the crash, he would eventually succeed in tricking her into confessing or incriminating herself.

One thing was for sure – she was going to take part of Swindle's advice. She would stay out of Cyclonus' way from now on, keeping her head down, not drawing attention to herself. And she would no longer seek a comrade among the Decepticon forces. Hook and Scrapper had already been burned by their involvement in her plans, and she couldn't bear to see anyone else hurt.

But she wasn't about to give up, either. Not so long as those two ruled the Decepticons. She would continue to fight… even if it meant she fought alone.

Once in her quarters, she went to the berth and collapsed on it, feeling utterly exhausted despite having just woken up from recharge. What now? Where did she go from here? It was one thing to resolve to fight, but quite another to decide what to do about said resolution. And the failure of her last plan – and the subsequent arrest and punishment of her co-conspirator – left a pang of guilt in her spark, as well as a serious dent in her confidence. There had to be a way to get rid of those two, but what? And would the price of success be greater than the Decepticons could bear?

"Kid?"

She looked up from the berth, glancing at the table that was the only other furniture in her room. Her few personal effects were scattered across the surface – a few datapads, her dragon toy from her sparkling days, the tiny gun Megatron had given her, and some holos of herself, her uncle, and Wildfire from their happier days. And perched on the edge of the table, swinging his legs casually as if he hadn't a care in the world, was Frenzy, looking at her worriedly.

"Hey," she said softly, managing a bit of a smile. "Long time no see."

"Long time no see to you too," he noted. "Sorry it's been awhile, Soundwave keeps us hoppin'." He cocked his head to one side. "You okay? Bro tells me you had quite the crash earlier."

"I'm fine," she murmured.

"Liar," he retorted. "Something's eatin' at ya. What's goin' on?"

She had resolved not to involve anyone else in her plans… but she desperately wanted someone to vent to, and that desire overrode her earlier vow. All the pain and guilt and frustration spilled out as she told Frenzy everything – her attempts to get Motormaster and Onslaught to help, her plot with Hook to instate him as Decepticon leader, the execution and subsequent failure of the plan, even her fear that Cyclonus knew she was involved and planned to trick her into a confession. Despite all attempts to keep her composure, excess optic cleanser streamed down her face as she spoke, and it was all she could do not to break down into sobs.

Sometime during her semi-confession Frenzy must have left the table and made his way to her berth, because she felt his hand patting her arm sympathetically. "There, kid… it's gonna be all right."

"How can you say that?" she demanded, wiping her face with the back of a hand. "Hook and Scrapper are in the brig, Cyclonus has his optics on me, and I don't know what to do now…"

"Hey kid, you ain't out of options," Frenzy assured her. "And yeah, things ain't lookin' good for Hook right now, but he knew what he was getting' into when he said yes. Don't go blamin' yourself for all this." He patted her arm again. "This is just a setback. You'll come up with somethin'."

His faith in her was admirable, and gave her a flicker of hope. "I… I'll try. It just feels like such an impossible task. Especially since it feels like I have to do it myself."

"Aw kid, don't try to do this alone."

"I can't stand to see anyone else hurt, though. Hook could die because I pulled him into this scheme… I don't want anyone else in trouble. I just… don't know how I can do it without help of some kind."

A pleased smile crossed his face, as if she'd said exactly what he wanted her to say. "Would you be open to a word of advice, kid?"

"Anything."

He nodded. "Beta Geode."

She frowned. "Beta Geode?"

"Beta Geode. Yeah, that's two words of advice, not one, but it's your best bet. You're not gonna be able to do much to off Galvy and Cyc with Mr. Easter Bunny ventin' down your neck strut. If you're serious about getting' those two out of power, you'd better get off Chaar… an' if you go there you'll have a safe place to plan somethin' out."

She hesitated. "But that's a neutral colony. If I go there… I as good as cut myself off from the Decepticons forever."

Frenzy laughed. "Hey, just 'cause you go neutral for a while, doesn't mean you have to stay neutral. And who knows? You might find other 'Cons there… ones with the same sorta goals on their CPUs. At any rate, it'll be a lot safer than here."

She took a deep intake of air, then blew it out in a sigh. She hadn't considered leaving Chaar. As horrible as this place could be, it was still home, and everyone she knew and cared about was here. But Frenzy did have a point – if Cyclonus' optic was on her, she had little hope of succeeding at her mission. She needed a safe refuge, one where she could plan and gather resources. And if it meant temporarily throwing her lot in with neutrals…

Well, her uncle had once considered sending her to a neutral colony to save her from a premature upgrade. If he had thought it a viable option, then she supposed there were worse things she could do.

"Will I ever see you again?" she asked softly.

"Hey kid, 'course you will. Goodbye ain't forever. 'Sides, you still gotta come back and kick Galvy's butt." He punched her arm lightly. "Get your things together, okay? My brothers and I will stage a distraction. That way ol' Rabbit Ears can't keep you from leavin'."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble…"

"I'm a cassette," he reminded her, smirking. "We're experts at getting' in and out of trouble."

She laughed and scooped him up, hugging him gently. "Thank you, Frenzy."

"Not a prob, sweetspark." He patted her arm a final time, at the same time transmitting an information packet to her – a starmap and a set of coordinates. "Anyone you want me to tell goodbye for ya? Probably best if you leave right away."

She hesitated. "Can't I tell them in person?"

"Too risky. Cyc overhears, he's gonna know for sure you're Hook's accomplice. Best to get as far away as you can before he suspects anything."

She hadn't thought of that. "Tell Rumble… and the Stunticons… and Swindle. And tell Swindle I'm sorry, but that this is something I have to do."

"Will do."

Glory set him down before standing and striding toward the desk. It was a matter of seconds to gather together her personal effects and subspace them, though she lingered a moment over the datapad containing her mother's journal. Windblade had long been a loyal assistant to Shockwave, a top scientist to the Decepticon cause. Would she approve of what her creation was doing? Plotting a coup against the current Decepticon leader?

 _She would have wanted me to do what I feel is right,_ she decided at last. _And in my spark, I know this is right. She can't begrudge me that._

"Gonna be okay, kid?"

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "Frenzy… thank you. For everything."

"No prob. Now scoot. The cassettes'll arrange somethin' to keep Cyc off your tail for a while."

She nodded and strode out, trying to act casual as she passed knots of Sweeps and other Decepticons in the corridors. Beta Geode was a good distance away, but her fuel levels were high and she was in good repair. She should be able to make the journey in one go, without stopping to refuel along the way. That would greatly reduce her risk of being caught, either by Cyclonus or by Autobot patrols.

Passing by the repair bay, she hesitated. Then, on impulse, she turned to go inside. Frenzy had warned her not to speak to anyone regarding her plans… but there was one person she owed an explanation to. And perhaps she could make him an offer as well.

* * *

Frenzy watched the violet Seeker go, waiting until she was out of sight before radioing Soundwave. _She's on her way, boss._

 _Excellent,_ Soundwave replied, a note of satisfaction in his voice. _Coordinates to Beta Geode?_

_Delivered. Maybe we should warn Shocky she's comin'? He'll wanna be prepared._

_Communication with Shockwave – my business. Return to quarters. Prepare for sabotage of command center. Distraction: necessary._

_Got it, boss._ Frenzy hopped down from the berth and darted out of the room, bolting down the halls as fast as his little legs could carry him. He was going to miss having Glory around here. It had been nice having someone who understood being small close by, and even after her upgrade she had remained friendly with the cassettes, never giving them a hard time for being small or kicking them around for giggles. But with Cyclonus all too eager to see traitors to Galvatron brutally punished, it was for her own good that she left the planet.

And if they were really going to kill Galvatron, it was best that they kept those committed to their cause alive and in one piece.

He had to wonder if Shockwave knew what he was getting into by wanting Glory sent to Beta Geode with him. Even as an adult, she could be a handful. Then again, the former Guardian of Cybertron had worked with her mother before, so he couldn't exactly claim ignorance when it came to dealing with someone of her temperament. Ah well, that was his problem.

* * *

Swindle was in the repair bay, trying to get the tools and equipment sorted into some order that appealed to him, when a soft voice intruded on his thoughts.

"Swindle?"

He glanced up to see Glory standing in the doorway… and immediately wasn't sure how to feel. On the one hand, it was her fault he was stuck as the Decepticons' chief medical officer, a position he'd never exactly wanted. And he was still pretty upset that she was so bullheaded about risking herself in this plot to overthrow Galvatron. He had expected her to simply find a stronger mech as an ally and act as his support, not nearly get herself killed in a botched assassination attempt.

But on the other hand… she was still Glory, despite everything. And he hadn't lied to her earlier – despite her being derived from another mech's programming, he still had come to see her as the closest thing he had to family. He might be upset with her, but he couldn't hate her.

"Hey," he said at last, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. "What's up? Any of your systems glitching?"

She shook her head. "Swindle… I'm leaving."

A jolt passed through his systems. "What?"

"I'm leaving." She stepped into the repair bay, fixing him with a serious look. "I can't stay here anymore. It's too dangerous."

"Glory," he said carefully, "think about what you're saying. Everyone you've ever cared about is here – your friends, the mechs you call family…"

"I know," she replied calmly. "And that's why I have to go. Cyclonus is watching me, and if I stay here he'll be watching me too closely for me to try to save everything I care about. And even worse, he could hurt people I care about to try to get me to confess to my role in all this. I'm going to stay with the neutrals for a while, until I have a better plan."

Swindle opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying to find the wherewithal to reply. Primus, she was serious about this. He had expected her to feel too guilty about Hook's imprisonment to act on any more outrageous plots, but apparently this setback had done little to quell her. And rather than listen to his warnings, she was just going to go into hiding and plan in secret. If Thundercracker were still alive and hearing this, he was sure the blue Seeker would be going into hysterics about now.

"Where do you plan on going? It's not like you can just find neutrals around every corner…"

"Beta Geode," she replied simply.

"You don't even know where that is!"

"Frenzy gave me coordinates."

"What in blazes is Frenzy doing with coordinates to there?"

"Never mind that, Swindle. I'm doing what I know is right. I didn't come here for you to try to talk me out of it. I came to say goodbye… and to make you an offer."

"Kid, you don't know what you're getting into-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Swindle, come with me."

He snapped his mouth shut, staring at her. Did he hear her right?

"Leave this place," she urged him, reaching out to take his hand. "It's dangerous here – if Galvatron doesn't snap and kill us all, the Autobots will wipe us out in retaliation for us breaking the truce. You're clever, and you're one of my good friends… together, we could stand a chance at surviving. And at coming back to make things right on Chaar." She offered him a hopeful smile. "Come on… we can be to the next star system before they even notice we're gone."

He looked away, thinking on what she was offering. He couldn't deny that he was tempted by her offer. Hadn't he suggested to Onslaught that they would be better off fleeing Chaar than staying on and waiting for things to get worse? Hadn't he wanted to get out from under Cyclonus' oppressive reign, and as far away from Galvatron's psychotic rages as possible? And if she was truly going to Beta Geode, that meant she was going to Shockwave… and if the violet mech was half as intelligent as Swindle remembered, he would be exactly the kind of ally Glory needed.

But in the end, he shook his head. "I can't, kid."

Her smile faded. "Swindle…"

"You may think the only way you can help the Decepticons is by leaving… but I have responsibilities here. My team needs me, and the 'Cons need a medic. With Hook and Scrapper gone, that means me." He pulled his hand free from her grasp. "Go if you must… but I can't go with you. If you leave, you're doing this alone."

Glory went quiet for a moment, optics dimming with disappointment. "So that's it, then," she murmured. "You've made your decision."

"It's not like I love Galvatron," he insisted. "I just can't abandon my team, or my duties on Chaar. I'm sorry, kid… I really am. But if you need to do what you feel is right, then I need to do what I feel is right, too. Even if it's different from what you feel you need to do."

She looked away, and for a moment her optics clouded with tears. Then she blinked them back and turned to face him again. "I hope things work out for you here."

"Yeah… so do I. And I hope whatever happens for you… you stay safe. And that you don't end up regretting this."

"I'll never forget you, Swindle."

"I won't forget you, kid. Be careful, okay?"

She nodded, and turned to go… only to freeze in place. A Sweep was standing in the doorway to the repair bay, doubtless stopping by for a checkup or some minor repair. Before Swindle or Glory could say or do anything, the blue mech took off running. Swindle's internals churned with sudden panic. How much had he overheard?

"Run," he urged. "Run for it! Before he reports this!"

She whirled around and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Goodbye, Swindle. Thank you for everything…"

"No time to get sentimental, just RUN!"

She released him so suddenly he staggered, and she bolted out the door. Before she was even fully out of sight, alarms began to blare in the base.

"All Decepticons mobilize!" Cyclonus' voice was no longer cold and arrogant, but blazing with a rage worthy of Galvatron. "We have a traitor within our ranks! All mechs are to hunt down and capture or destroy –"

His demand was cut off by a burst of static, then every speaker in the base began playing music – an annoying human song Swindle instantly recognized as the Macarena. Cyclonus' voice broke through momentarily to try to repeat the order, but every time the hacker managed to cut him off and keep playing the song.

For the first time, Swindle found himself smiling at Rumble and Frenzy's antics. "Keep at it, you two… you just may buy her some time."


	15. Reunion

"What'd you do this time?" Vortex demanded, shoving Swindle in the back.

"I didn't do nothin'!" Swindle griped, stepping out of the way of the helicopter-former before he could get physical again. "Primus, what's your problem?"

"You're the one that gets us in trouble the most!" Vortex shot back. "An' Galvatron's called all of us here, so you musta done somethin'!"

"Galvatron's calling all the Decepticons together, idiot," Brawl pointed out. "Not just the Combaticons. Not that that's much better – one 'Con screws up and all of us get in trouble for it…"

"I don't see why we have to be dragged in here," Blast Off sniffed. "It was the Constructicons who tried to assassinate Cyclonus, not us. Did they try to shift blame on us somehow?"

"If they did and we live through this, I'll track 'em down and pound the scrap outta them," Brawl vowed. "They'll be exhaustin' their own scrap for a week-"

"The four of you shut up," Onslaught ordered. "Galvatron comes."

The Decepticons of Chaar were packed into the largest chamber in the base – what should have been a common room but had been turned into Galvatron's throne room at their leader's narcissistic demand. Despite their numbers having shrunk in the past few years, the room was still uncomfortably packed with everyone present. It didn't help that no one dared get within fifty feet of the throne itself, leaving a wide gap around it while mechs jostled each other for room elsewhere. Soundwave carried his cassettes on his shoulders and in his arms to avoid them being trampled, and Runabout and Runamuck had found their own solution to the overcrowding problem – Runabout perched on his twin's shoulders, allowing him to see over the taller mechs and relay information to his brother.

Glory was nowhere to be seen… and Swindle hoped against hope that it was a good sign. If she had escaped, then this meeting of Galvatron's would at least ensure that she had a head start before any sort of pursuit began. If she had been captured… Galvatron hadn't arranged a public execution before, but Swindle doubted anything would stop him from conducting one now.

Speak of the devil… the violet Decepticon strode up to the throne and took a seat, practically simmering with rage. Cyclonus moved to stand beside the throne, a look of utter contempt on his own faceplate as he regarded the gathered troops. Scourge hung back with his Sweeps, sporting a long but shallow slash across his chest, looking disgusted at what was going on but not electing to comment on it.

Galvatron wasted no time in getting straight to the point. "We have traitors within our ranks! Decepticons have sought to undermine MY rule, thinking that THEY know better than their own leader how to command MY troops! I will not tolerate this!"

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard all this before," muttered Divebomb from somewhere behind Swindle. "Get on with pummeling us already…"

"It seems there are those among you who have forgotten your place," Galvatron went on, a cruel smile on his faceplate. "Those who think they can get away with treason. Let this be an example to you, a message to ALL who would oppose me!"

Cyclonus gestured sharply to the Sweeps, who dragged forward a large crate. Before Swindle could guess at the contents they upended it at the foot of Galvatron's throne.

Swindle gurgled, his fuel tanks lurching and threatening to purge right then and there. Ramjet didn't even resist the urge and was immediately sick on the floor. Breakdown gave a high femme-like screech of horror and wobbled back and forth as if about to faint dead away. The rest of the Decepticons were in an immediate uproar, cursing or muttering in horrified anger at the sight.

Galvatron just smirked. "And should anyone else think to rise against me… this shall be the consequence."

Finally Swindle managed to get his fuel intake under control, and he chanced a step closer to get a better look at the mess. Hook and Scrapper hadn't just been beaten for their attempt on Cyclonus' life – they had been quite literally torn to pieces. Limbs had been wrenched apart at the joints, hands separated from arms, heads sliced clean off of torsos. The one bright spot was that neither mech's main chassis had gone gray, a sign that their sparks were still online, but given their brutal and messy punishment Swindle almost wondered if perhaps it would have been more merciful to terminate them.

He glanced up at Onslaught, hoping his expression would convey what he wanted to say. If ever there was a more desperate time for the Decepticons, this was it. Surely their leader would see reason now, and the Combaticons could flee the planet. Perhaps he would be seeing Glory again sooner than he thought, if she indeed made it to the neutrals' world…

Onslaught gave the barest of nods, and extended two fingers on his right hand – the unspoken signal for the Combaticons to assemble in their canyon as soon as this meeting was over. Swindle nodded in return, feeling a stab of hope. Finally, they were leaving this slaghole of a planet. Finally, things were looking up… even if it had taken something horrible to finally get Onslaught to see that it was too dangerous to remain here.

"Clean this mess up," Cylonus snapped at the remaining Constructicons, who were still staring at their dismantled teammates in horror. "Swindle, reassemble them. They will be returned to the brig to finish out their sentence as soon as repairs are completed."

"Y-yes, sir," Swindle replied, trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

"What about the Seeker?" a Sweep demanded. "She gonna be punished too?"

"We have to hunt her down first, stupid," Tantrum retorted. "We sendin' out search parties or what?"

"No," Galvatron snarled, glaring at the Predacon. "We will send out no search parties."

Swindle sagged in relief. But apparently their not-so-beloved leader wasn't done.

"A bounty has been issued for the Seeker known as Glory," he continued. "She will be found and brought back… dead or alive. Until that time, no one is allowed to leave Chaar."

Angry protests rose in response, but Cyclonus cut them short by drawing his gun and firing several times over the offending mechs' helms.

"No one is leaving Chaar!" Galvatron went on. "I'll not have my Decepticons deserting the cause now, or plotting against me! From now on, everyone remains at the base! Any who leave without my permission will be destroyed on the spot!"

"Lord Galvatron, this is insane," Onslaught pointed out. "Chaar has no resources, and our supplies are stretched painfully thin as it is. If we cannot leave the planet to acquire energy, we'll all starve to death."

"We will make do with what we have," Galvatron replied, the cruel smile never leaving his face. "And should supplies run out you'll simply have to do without, Onslaught. Your team has been next to useless to me – you'll get exactly the allotment you deserve."

"Lockdown of Decepticon base: inadvisable," Soundwave put in. "Autobot attack: imminent. Supply runs required to prepare for defending base."

Galvatron answered the communications officer with a pulse of his arm cannon. The tape deck barely had time to fling his cassettes out of the way before the blast struck his chest, sending him reeling back into Motormaster. The Stunticon nearly toppled but held his ground, pushing Soundwave back upright. Smoke plumed from his shattered chestplate, but he didn't appear to be seriously hurt by the blast.

"The next mech to question my orders will get the same, only to the CPU!" Galvatron roared. "NO ONE leaves Chaar! NO ONE leaves the base without my permission! That is FINAL!" Sparks blazed around his helm with that final word, and he grimaced and ground his dental plates as his optics flashed in pain. "Dismissed! Get out of my sight, you pathetic energy leeches!"

Most of the Decepticons didn't need to be told twice – they bolted for the door. Swindle stayed long enough to try to collect the pieces of Hook and Scrapper's bodies, though how he was going to lug them back to the repair bay he had no idea. With Galvatron in such a homicidal mood, he had no desire to make multiple trips…

The grinding of a transformation cog caught his attention, and he turned to see Long Haul backing toward him in truck mode. "Load 'em up, Swindle. I'll get 'em back to medbay."

Swindle nodded and carefully collected a few sections of limbs, placing them in Long Haul's truck bed. To his relief Long Haul wasn't the only Constructicon staying to help – Mixmaster and Bonecrusher pitched in to help load him up, while Scavenger touched a scanner to the disembodied torsos to check for other damages or malfunctions besides the obvious dismemberment.

"Pretty bad, isn't it? Isn't it?" asked Mixmaster, giving Swindle a despairing look.

Swindle wasn't sure if Mixmaster meant his teammate's damages or the situation as a whole, but he answered anyhow. "Very bad. If things don't get fixed soon…" He let the sentence dangle. Let the chemist make what he would of it.

"We can't fix it ourselves," Mixmaster pointed out. "We need help." Again, Swindle wasn't sure if he was referring to Hook and Scrapper, or to their current situation, but he got the feeling he was referring to both.

"I'll do what I can," Swindle promised. "The rest… the rest we'll just have to wait and see."

Mixmaster nodded, and with a grim expression he picked up the last pieces of his comrades and loaded them for transport. Swindle transformed and led the way to repair bay, Long Haul close behind.

 _This just keeps getting worse all the time,_ he thought darkly. Galvatron was completely off his rocker by this point – in his desperation to keep his troops from deserting, he was going to doom them all. If they didn't all shut down from energon depletion, the Autobots would show up soon to wipe them out. And as few as their numbers were and their current state of disrepair, they wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight.

Perhaps it was a mercy that Glory had chosen now to abandon the Decepticons. At least she would survive Galvatron's insane reign, even if it was as the last of her kind.

* * *

It was with a great deal of hesitance that Glory finally touched down on the small moon, choosing a deep, shadowy crater as her landing point. She had hoped to make this journey with no stops or detours, in order to lessen her chances of being caught by any pursuing Decepticons or patrolling Autobots. But she had little choice – she'd sustained damages during her escape from Chaar, and she needed to rest and let her self-repair do what it could before she could proceed.

She transformed and rubbed her right wing joint, wincing at the ugly tears in the metal where Scourge's claws had torn into her shoulder and the trailing edge of her wing. His expression during their brief struggle had been unexpectedly reluctant – he hadn't wanted to fight her, but doubtless felt he had no choice but to stop her and take her into custody. Likewise, Glory hadn't wanted to draw her armblades to fend him off, but in the end she had decided she had no recourse either. She didn't hate the Sweep leader, but saving her friends from Galvatron's cruelty took precedence over going easy on him.

At least Scourge hadn't pressed the attack after the initial few blows were exchanged… but it had still cost her any lead she might have had, and she still didn't know if she was being pursued or not. And after a seemingly endless week of pressing her engines to the limit, putting as much distance between herself and Chaar as she could, she still wasn't sure she'd entirely thrown them off. Even now, huddling against the wall of the crater and darkening her armor to try to avoid detection, she feared being spotted and caught.

 _At least you don't have much farther to go,_ she thought, leaning against the rock wall. She'd finally reached Beta Geode's star system. The planet itself lay further into the system, closer to the sun, and it wouldn't take long to reach it. She only hoped that the neutrals would hear her out and not shoot first, ask questions later.

Voices drifted closer, and she tensed, wincing again as the motion pulled at damaged cables. She strained to hear, amplifying her audials in an effort to catch the chatter. If this was Galvatron's scouting party, she was as good as dead… but if it was an Autobot patrol, she might stand a chance. Autobots were usually merciful to their captives…

"…don't see why you picked this rock of all places," an unfamiliar voice grumbled. "Ain't nothin' here but a lotta rock and dust."

"Even rock and dust have their uses," a second voice, deeper and more refined, retorted. "Besides, the war spanned so many planets it's not even funny. Who knows what we might find here? And you know Optimus Prime will pay top credit if we find any bodies or parts of fallen Autobot soldiers."

"Why would they fight over this hunk of nothing?" a third voice, this one female, shot back. "We should be on Junk, not here. At least on Junk we're guaranteed to find something that'll fetch a price."

"The Junkions guard their territory quite viciously," the second voice replied. "At least here, whatever we find is ours without a fight."

Glory's wings twitched, and she didn't know whether to be relieved or more worried than ever. Not Decepticons, but not a proper Autobot patrol either. This sounded like an Autobot scavenger team, hopping from planet to planet and harvesting whatever discarded scrap they could find to sell off. To a well-armed Decepticon a scavenger team was little more than an annoyance, but in her current condition, wounded and low on energy, they might actually be a threat.

She pressed against the wall, slowing her air intake and not twitching a servo. Sooner or later they'd get tired of searching this area and move on… she'd be able to make her escape…

"Pickin' up metal on my scanner, boss," the first speaker noted. "Somethin' good-sized too. Might be a body."

"Just make sure it isn't alive before you go grabbing for it," the femme told him. "Remember what happened back on Arrakis…"

"Oh, shut up," the first voice snapped.

Footsteps crunched closer. Glory crouched, ready to spring and take to the air at a moment's notice. Her arm blades slid free, just in case she had to fight her way past one or more mechs. Hopefully there weren't any others besides these three.

"Think I see somethin'," the first voice went on, and his voice was coming from straight overhead, as if he were on the edge of the crater and looking down. "Could be a body…"

Time to forgo stealth, then. Glory burst from the shadows, thrusters and antigravs activated, streaking upward to clear the canyon wall. She aimed a quick blow at the mech who had spotted her as she passed, figuring the distraction would buy her a few precious astroseconds. She was banking on these scavengers being groundpounders rather than flight-modes, but seeing as flight-modes were still fairly scarce among Autobots she figured she was safe.

A blast tore into her damaged shoulder, and she screamed in pain. A second blast struck her in the small of the back, sending agony radiating throughout her entire chassis. Warnings flashed across her readout as her antigravs flickered, then shut down entirely. Flailing, she tried to stay airborne, but a third blast struck her damaged wing and sent her spiraling to the ground. She barely managed to control her fall enough to make the potentially devastating crash a rather clumsy landing instead.

"You got it!" the femme crowed triumphantly. "Way to go, boss!"

"Aw, slaggit," the first mech groaned. "It's a freakin' 'Con."

Glory wobbled on her feet, fighting the urge to black out, and turned to face the scavengers. There were three of them, one holding a still-smoking cannon and the other two jogging up to join him. Not good odds… and given that she was badly damaged, and her body was currently screaming in pain to remind her she still hadn't fully recovered from her last accident, the odds were tipped even further in their favor.

The mech who had downed her lowered his gun and stepped closer, his stance tense and wary. A bulky truckformer with a masked and visored face, he bore dark green armor on his chest, lower arms, and lower legs, with rusty red-brown on his upper arms, thighs, and lower torso. His visor shone amber as he regarded her, his expression hidden but the slight tilt of his head seeming to convey a mocking disdain for her, as if she were the inferior mech here and not he.

She raised her arms, keeping her blades between herself and the scavenger leader. "Let me pass, Autobot, and I'll let you leave this moon unhurt."

He chuckled in response, planting his free hand on his hip. "For being a lone Decepticon – damaged and weak, to boot – you have a lot of spirit."

The other two scavengers moved in to surround her, blocking her escape. One was some sort of carformer, lean and gangly, his armor a faded blue, and hornlike projections framing his helm. He held a metal detection scanner in one hand, wielding it like a club, and in the other he carried a battered but deadly-looking short sword. The femme, a shade of violet so pale it was nearly lavender, bore the same bland body type that most Autobot femmes shared – no visible vehicle mode, generically beautiful, but ultimately impractical and useless by Decepticon standards. But she carried a crossbow armed with some sort of energy rounds, and the way she held it indicated she knew perfectly well how to use it.

"Let's just off 'er and get the slag outta here," the carformer whined.

"Oh hush, she's not going to hurt you," the femme snapped. "She's wounded. We can take her."

The truckformer regarded Glory for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he nodded, as if coming to a decision, and addressed his comrades.

"We take this one alive," he announced. "Remember that transmission from a few days back?"

The femme sneered. "I don't pay attention to what's on the Decepticon broadband."

"Perhaps you should take more notice of it," the truckformer replied. "Because this one has quite the price on her head. Apparently Galvatron wants his AWOL soldier back."

Glory's spark dropped to her fuel tanks. A bounty… Galvatron had effectively turned her into a hunted creature. She should have expected that – several mechs who had deserted over the years had large prices on their heads, though so far no one had tried to collect on the bounties. But she had never dreamed she would end up with a target stamped on her own back.

 _Is this going to compromise things for the neutrals?_ she wondered, a new panic seizing her. _Will they think it's too dangerous for me to be with them? Or worse, turn me in for the reward?_

"Withdraw your blades, Seeker," the truckformer ordered. "Then remove your arm guns and slide them my way." He raised his cannon again. "Cooperate and be a good femme, and we can do this painlessly."

Her wings twitched, the obvious contempt in his tone angering her and burning away her surge of fear. Oh, he wanted her to be a good femme, did he? If being a good femme entailed rolling over like a submissive turbohound and letting a group of pathetic scavengers treat her like some kind of prize or energy ticket, then she had absolutely no intention of being "good."

"Over my cold, rusted chassis," she snarled, and spit at his feet.

The carformer gasped softly in shock, while the femme snorted in amusement. The truckformer just stared a moment at the glob of oil at his feet, bemused, then sighed and shook his head.

"See where trying to be a gentlemech gets me," he murmured. "Very well… be it on your head, Seeker." And he fired.

The truckformer's apparent penchant for talking before firing gave Glory a moment's grace, letting her fling herself out of the way of the blast. Had he been aiming for her chest he would have instead taken her arm off at the shoulder… but he must have been firing to disable, not kill, for instead the blast scorched her wing, tearing off a chunk of metal.

"Take her," the truckformer ordered. "Don't offline her. The reward is double if she's alive."

"Didn't say nothin' 'bout her being in one piece, though," the carformer cackled, and leaped at Glory, axe raised.

Glory met the mech's charge head-on, one arm-blade raised to catch the haft of the axe and stop its descent, the other driving lower to pierce his belly. The mech gurgled and doubled over, oil and energon bubbling out of the wound, optics wide with shock. She jerked the blade free and threw him to the side, ready to run for safety. If she ever ran into Motormaster again, she would have to thank him for the lessons in hand-to-hand combat…

A crossbow bolt struck her in the neck joint, dangerously close to piercing her spinal strut. Before she could do more than jerk in reflex, the bolt released a torrent of energy through her systems. She collapsed face-down on the ground, her entire body convulsing as electricity coursed through her, her motor control and sensory systems going haywire. Her entire body blazed with pain, but she didn't even have enough control over her own chassis to scream. Panic seized her – not fear of capture, but the utter terror that came of losing control over one's own body. She was helpless, at these mechs' mercy, and she couldn't even move, let alone defend herself…

The femme's next words came in snatches, barely processed by her malfunctioning audials. "…thought… Decepticons… harder to catch…"

"…get him patched up… energy cuffs… when we go…" The truckformer's reply was similarly butchered, but she caught enough of the gist to know that she was as good as dead now. Even if these scavengers kept her alive on the way back to Chaar, Galvatron would kill her once she was back in his clutches. The only question would be whether he would make it a quick death, or see to it that she suffered.

More noise reached her audials, but they were glitching so badly that she wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not. A sudden piercing scream from the femme, the whine of blaster weapons, curses and shouts, the ominous thud of a chassis striking the ground… was it real, or just her senses playing tricks on her? She wished she could see what was going on, but all her flickering optics could take in was an extreme close-up of the rocky ground.

Pain flared anew in her chassis as a hand rolled her over, and she caught a brief glimpse of another face before her optics winked out entirely.

"…you all right?" That wasn't the truckformer, but another voice… one oddly familiar. "Hey… all right? You're a mess…"

 _I know that voice,_ she thought vaguely. _And that face…_ Maybe if she relaxed a little she could find a name to fit to this new mech… if she just recharged on it a little…

* * *

"You do seem to bring back the most interesting things on your patrol runs, Blitz," Steelwing remarked dryly, not looking up from finishing the last round of repairs. "You can't be bothered to report on scavenger teams horning in on our territory, but a pretty femme crosses your path and you're suddenly on a mission."

"Oh, shut up," Blitzwing snapped. "I don't report on the scavenger teams 'cause I take care of 'em before they become a problem. Just like this one won't be a thorn in our sides anymore."

Steelwing snorted softly. "You need to learn when a mech is teasing you, Blitz." She made one last adjustment to some circuitry beneath the Seeker's wing panel, then closed it. "I've done what I can. Now we just wait for her to wake up on her own and see if she's malfunctioning anywhere else."

Blitzwing nodded. "She gonna be okay?"

Steelwing smirked a little. "You seem oddly interested in this one, Blitz. She strike your fancy?"

He glared at the black-and-gold femme, wings twitching in annoyance. "Don't see how it's your business, Steelie. And who says I can't be concerned when a fellow Decepticon gets roughed up?"

"Nobody. It's just a little surprising when you've never been concerned before." She shrugged. "You reported this to Shockwave yet?"

"I'll get around to it. Wanna make sure she actually wakes up first."

"Just don't wait too long. You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting. If she wakes up, let me know." And she scooped up her tools and moved off to the other side of the repair bay to clean them.

Blitzwing snorted, wanting to get angry with the femme but finding he couldn't bring himself to be bothered. Steelwing was the closest friend he had on Beta Geode – which basically meant she was the one mechanism on this planet he was least likely to hit if he was in a bad mood. A former Decepticon spy, with the sort of Praxian body form Autobots like Prowl and Bluestreak had worn, she had encountered him while doing undercover work on Cybertron and talked him into joining Shockwave and the other Decepticons when they finally cut their losses and fled the planet. For that, he supposed he was indebted to her, and so he mostly put up with her sarcasm and dry humor.

While Steelwing cleaned up after the repair session, Blitzwing let his gaze move to the Seeker he'd rescued. Those scavengers had roughed her up pretty badly, but it looked like she would recover without long-term damages. She seemed rather young, her chassis, paint job, and components close to new despite some evidence of heavy damage in the past, and it was obvious she'd put up quite a fight against her attackers. He had to admire that kind of spunk in a mech… femme… whatever.

Shockwave would need to hear about this sooner or later, of course – he wanted to know whenever new Decepticons arrived at Beta Geode to seek sanctuary. The other neutrals kept a close optic on the former Guardian's activities here, knowing his reputation and not wanting their planet to become a staging ground for an uprising. That didn't stop Shockwave from taking careful note of every Decepticon, and keeping them quietly organized and ready to move out at his command. They might technically answer to Bulldog, the leader of this world's neutrals, but should Shockwave issue the command to leave the planet or overthrow the other neutrals, few of the Decepticons would even hesitate to obey.

For now, though… Blitzwing figured he'd wait until the femme woke up before making his report. She'd have a better idea of what went down than he did, after all. Plus, it would possibly give him a few moments alone with her, and a shot at making a decent impression…

 _All right, knock it off,_ he told himself. _You don't even know this femme. Besides, she's a Seeker. They don't even look twice at non-Seekers, let alone triple-changers._ Okay, so maybe that wasn't exactly true – Stormrunner, one of the other Seekers on Beta Geode, was bonded to a boatformer of all things. Still, in his experience Seekers generally turned their olfactory sensors up at triple-changers, as if seeing them as inferior or even mutants. Why should this one be any different?

The femme stirred, wincing slightly. Blitzwing looked up at Steelwing, but the spy-turned-medic was still busy at the wash basin. He thought about letting her know her patient was coming online, but then figured she wouldn't want to be bothered. It wasn't like the Seeker was going anywhere anytime soon.

Scarlet optics came slowly online, flickering a few times as she tried to focus them. She simply lay there a moment, as if trying to get her bearings. Then she turned her head to the side to look at him.

Blitzwing couldn't help himself – he smiled a bit at her. "Hey, sweetspark. You're awake at last."

She groaned in response.

"Hey, I'm not that ugly, am I?" he laughed. "Name's Blitzwing. Found you on one of the moons in this system. You took quite the beating, but our medic says you're gonna be okay."

She groaned again, reaching up to rub at her temples. "Where am I?"

"Beta Geode," he replied. "Neutral colony. Don't worry, you're safe. Bulldog's pretty open about accepting anyone looking for asylum here. I'm assuming that's why you were in the system?"

A look of intense relief flooded her features. "I made it… I'm safe…" Cleanser began to collect at the corners of her optics. "I thought I'd never make it…"

Blitzwing shifted uncomfortably. Whenever someone got emotional like this, he was never quite sure how to handle it. Then again, Decepticons in general tended to be awkward at comforting or helping another mech, even a comrade or friend. And neither Astrotrain nor Steelwing had been given to sudden outbursts like this.

"Hey… you're safe now, sweetspark," he said at last, patting her shoulder. "Sooner or later Bulldog's gonna want to meet with you, though… and Shockwave'll want to talk to you. He always does when new 'Cons show up."

Her optics brightened with surprise. "Shockwave's here? I thought… everyone thought he died during the Unicron battle."

"Oh, he liked to let everyone think that," Blitzwing replied. "But he's very much alive." _Easier to plan things in secret when everyone thinks you're deactivated,_ he wanted to add, but he kept that to himself. He didn't know whether this femme wanted to truly go neutral or not yet.

A genuinely happy smile crossed her faceplate at that news. "Shockwave's here… that's the best news I've heard in way too long." She lay back a moment, as if trying to process everything. Then she looked up at him with a puzzled look on her face. "What are you doing here, though?"

He shrugged. "Same as any other mech is doing here. Surviving." That question struck him as kind of weird, though he couldn't put his finger on the reason why.

She frowned. "You don't remember me?"

"Uh…" He searched his CPU, trying to think if he'd ever come across a purple-and-silver Seeker anytime recently. Had he hit on one in the past and gotten rejected? Nothing was forthcoming, however. "Can't say I do."

"Oh… oh!" Her optics flashed in realization. "Oh, of course… I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't be, sweetspark," he assured her. "Mistakes happen. Maybe you met another triple-changer in the past? People get me mixed up with Octane sometimes, though I dunno why, he's a freakin' truck, not a tank…"

"No, not that." She reached out and grasped his hand. "Blitzwing, it's me. It's Glory."

His audials took in that statement, his CPU processed it, but for some reason it still failed to register in his databanks. He just stared at the femme, trying to compute what she had just said. "Wait… what?"

"It's me, Glory," she repeated. "You remember me, don't you?"

He shook his head, unbelieving. In response to that name his databanks called up the image of the short, big-opticked sparkling that had been constantly underfoot on both the Nemesis and Chaar, dragging a toy cyberdragon wherever she went, whispering and giggling with the cassettes at any given moment, charging around the base on the back of her horseformer bodyguard. But his CPU refused to reconcile the memory of the sparkling with the adult Seeker femme on the berth before him. It couldn't be… this had to be a joke…

"Glory?!" he blurted.

She grinned unexpectedly, and immediately he recognized that smile as being uniquely Glory's. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Frag right! What are you doing here? Where's Swindle? He know you're here? Primus kid, you've grown up." He was fully aware he was rambling, but suddenly he was less interested in impressing a femme and more interested in knowing what the frag had happened to the little sparkling he'd left hiding in the command center three years ago. Slag, had it really only been three years… it seemed like another lifetime entirely.

Steelwing must have finished up while he'd been distracted, because he heard her laugh just behind him. "So you two know each other… fascinating. Old girlfriend, Blitz?"

"You stay out of this," Blitzwing snapped.

"Who's that?" Glory asked, looking up at Steelwing with a curious expression.

Before Blitzwing could answer, a crisp voice cut into the conversation.

"Ah, Decepticon Seeker Glory. I have been expecting you."

Steelwing straightened, doorwings erect, standing at attention as Shockwave strode into the room. Blitzwing, too, straightened and did his best to appear attentive and respectful. The violet gunformer didn't look at either of them, however – all his attention was directed toward Glory, who tried to sit up but grimaced in pain.

"At ease," Shockwave ordered. "You are still recovering. We may worry about formalities when you are in full repair."

"Shockwave… sir… you were expecting me?" Glory stared up at the Decepticon commander, bewildered.

"Indeed. I was informed of your impending arrival shortly after your... unsuccessful attempt on Cyclonus' life. Soundwave has been most helpful, both on keeping me updated on the situation on Chaar and ensuring you found your way here."

Blitzwing's optics blazed brightly in shock beneath his visor. Glory, the innocent femme who had been terrified to even shoot a gun when he'd last talked to her, had actually tried to assassinate Cyclonus?

"Steelwing, is Glory ready to leave the repair bay?" Shockwave asked, ignoring Blitzwing's stunned expression.

"If she takes it easy," Steelwing replied. "I don't know what happened to her before the scavengers worked her over, but both those incidents did a number on her. It'll be a few weeks before she's ready for anything strenuous."

"Noted." Shockwave extended his hand, and once Glory had taken it he pulled her to her feet. "Come. We have much to discuss."

Steelwing watched the commander and Seeker leave the repair bay, the bemused expression never leaving her faceplate. Then she turned to Blitzwing, and an amused smirk finally took over. "You look awfully funny with your mouth hanging open like that."

He snapped his mouth shut. "Frag you."

"Just making an observation." She cocked her head to one side. "All right, start talking. Who is she? You knew her as a kid, so she's not an old girlfriend… do you have a sparkling I don't know about?"

"She ain't mine," he said quickly. "And it's a long story."

"I've got time," she replied, leaning back against an empty berth. "Start talking."

He gusted a sigh. "Fine. But I'm gonna be sorry I told you this, I know it…"


	16. Sanctuary

Shockwave led Glory out of the repair bay and into paradise. Or if not exactly paradise, something very close to it.

The neutral base on Beta Geode was perched atop a cliff, giving Glory a spectacular view of the plain the base overlooked. Though she wasn't sure if "plain" was the right word – the land below was studded with magnificent rock formations, natural arches and towers carved by the power of nature rather than organic or Cybertronian hands. Instead of the trees and plants typical of Earth, crystals grew in abundance, clustered about like wildflowers or jutting toward the sky like glittering spires. Wherever sunlight struck the ground, crystals caught it and threw it back in a dazzling display of light. Even the rock itself seemed to glimmer, shining a rich reddish-orange or violet-blue or even a jade green instead of the flat gray she was accustomed to.

The information packet Frenzy had given her detailed the planet as rocky and devoid of organic life, much like Chaar, but the contrast between the two worlds couldn't have been greater. Where Chaar looked dead and lifeless, Beta Geode managed to burst with life even without actual living creatures.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

"The view is best at sunset," Shockwave noted. "You will be here to see it, I presume." He pointed out a narrow but seemingly stable path that made its way down the cliff face. "Walk with me for a short while?"

She nodded, and followed after the violet gunformer. It was still so hard to believe she was here, talking to Shockwave, after so many had given him up for dead after Unicron's attack on Cybertron. Part of her insisted that this had to be a dream… or worse, the scavengers had killed her and she was in the Well. Though if that were the case, she sort of wished it had been her uncle who had been there when she awoke, instead of Blitzwing.

Shockwave was silent as they walked, focusing his attention on the path. Glory didn't break the silence, wondering if it would be more appropriate to wait for him to speak first. It wasn't until they had reached the bottom of the cliff and were walking amongst the crystalline thickets that she spoke up.

"Have you been here all this time?" she asked. "Everyone back on Chaar thinks you're dead. Um… except Soundwave, I guess, but why didn't he ever tell anyone?"

Shockwave couldn't smile, but something about the way his headfins twitched suggested he was amused at what she said. "Reports of my deactivation have been greatly exaggerated, young Seeker. As for why I never revealed my existence to Galvatron… I saw what sort of leader our commander was right away, and deduced that he would be the ruination of the Decepticons."

"So you faked your death?"

"Not so much faked it as took advantage of circumstances. When Unicron demolished my tower I managed to escape, though I lost an arm and a leg in the process. Autobots uncovered my components in the wreckage and assumed I was dead. I saw no reason to correct their misinterpretation of the facts, and instead went into hiding, organizing the Decepticons who remained on the planet and fabricating new limbs for myself." He patted his gun-arm as he spoke. "Megatron had mentioned Beta Geode as a neutral colony of interest in the past – it is a world rich in energy, with only a single semi-sentient race to contend with for resources. It only seemed logical to bring my forces here, even if it meant temporarily renouncing our Decepticon status."

That made sense. "You said there was a sentient race here? But I thought this world didn't have organic life."

"Beta Geode is home to a race of silicone-based life forms typically called star dragons," he explained. "They are not organic in the traditional sense of the word, but they are alive all the same, if not as intelligent as Cybertronians or even humans." He said that last word with disdain. "They dislike our presence here, but generally they will not disturb us if we leave them unmolested. And there are other crystalline life forms here as well, though they are harmless."

As they passed by a patch of blue-tinted crystal "blooms," a rustle of movement caught her optic. Dozens of transparent lizard-like creatures, each no longer than her finger, scurried deeper into the mineral thickets, uttering high peeps not unlike the chirping of birds. She watched them go, fascinated, until a slight nudge from Shockwave urged her along.

"Shockwave… thank you," she said at last. "You and Soundwave both, for helping me get here."

He nodded in response. "Your plot against Galvatron did not go unnoticed… and your attempt on Cyclonus' life was admirable, even if it did not succeed. When we saw you shared our mission to overthrow Galvatron and place a proper leader upon the throne, we judged it best to have you join me on Beta Geode." He paused to step over a large shaft of crystal that had fallen and blocked the path. "What was the status of the Decepticons on Beta Geode when you departed?"

"Didn't Soundwave tell you?"

"Soundwave's last contact with me was seven solar cycles ago, to announce you were on your way here. I have heard nothing from him or his cassettes since."

That didn't sound good at all. "Cyclonus was hunting down anyone he thought was in on the plan to kill him. Scrapper and Hook were both imprisoned, and I think he knew I was involved, but he didn't act on it… not yet."

"Perhaps waiting for you to implicate yourself." Shockwave's headfins pinned back in disgust. "Cyclonus could be a brilliant leader if he would stop being Galvatron's sycophant. But seeing as his loyalty is to Galvatron only, and he sees the Decepticons only as tools, he is not a fit choice. And I suspect that after your departure, the two of them will be all the harder on those still on Chaar."

She sucked in a nervous intake of breath. What had she done? In fleeing Chaar, had she sentenced everyone she'd left behind to brutal punishment, even death? If anything happened to Swindle, or the Stunticons, or the cassettes… she would never forgive herself.

Shockwave seemed to know what she was thinking, and his headfins straightened back up as if he were trying to put on a comforting expression. "This would have happened whether or not you left the planet, Glory. You acted commendably given the situation."

"We have to go back," she insisted. "We have to rescue the others… do we have enough forces on this planet to go back and free the Decepticons?"

"Our numbers here are lower than I would like for an invasion," Shockwave replied. "Decepticons are finding their way here quite frequently, but many choose to truly become neutral instead of joining our cause. Even the leader of this colony, Bulldog, was once a Decepticon general, but he is old and claims he prefers retirement over seeing a proper leader in charge of our forces. He'll be of little help."

She blew out a sigh of frustration. "What are we supposed to do, though? Sit here and hope the problem takes care of itself? Galvatron's insane, Cyclonus is a sociopath, and both of them are going to destroy the Decepticons if we don't do something soon!"

"Patience, young Seeker," Shockwave advised. "The desire to act is commendable, but without a proper plan, desire is useless. Until we have enough forces, or some sort of edge against Galvatron, there is little we can do. So yes, we must wait… but rest assured that we will not wait forever. Soon, we will return to Chaar, and we will eliminate this mockery of a leader. Until then I suggest you be patient."

She sighed again, but didn't press the issue. It was like she was a sparkling all over again, wanting to help but being powerless to actually do anything.

"You have your mother's spirit," Shockwave said abruptly, cocking his head to one side. "She was a mechanism of action as well. Never content to sit back and let things happen – she had to be in the thick of things. And she, too, never hesitated to strike back against those she felt deserved it, though she preferred practical jokes over violence."

Frustration gave way to curiosity. "I read her journals. She said she worked for you."

"She and your father worked on the Space Bridge project," he confirmed. "Two of our top scientists. Their loss was a great blow to our science corps."

It had been so long since anyone had talked about her parents that she was beginning to think the entire Decepticon army had forgotten about Windblade and Piston. Her optics stung with built-up fluid, and she hastily looked away to try to hide it. "Was she… was she really as crazy as people say she was?"

"That greatly depends on one's definition of 'crazy,'" Shockwave replied. "Some contend that a certain level of insanity is needed to be a scientist, that the greatest achievements are made in madness. Though if it's certain events you're referring to… yes, she did change the password to every computer in the labs to 'Shockwave needs a hug,' and was responsible for the release of the petrorabbits in the biology labs at the academy. Among countless other incidents."

She laughed despite the cleanser fluid streaming down her face. "Oh dear…" She wiped at her face with both hands, trying to regain her composure. "I miss her… her and my father and Thundercracker… I wish they were here."

"Unfortunately, our science has not progressed to the point where we can raise the dead," Shockwave replied softly. "Though if the recent resurrection of Optimus Prime is anything to go by, Quintesson technology is sufficient… though I wouldn't trust those creatures if they were the last sentient mechanisms in the universe. But that is beside the point." He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. "Your family gave their lives for the Decepticon cause. Honor their sacrifice well."

She nodded. Despite the passage of years, she still greatly missed her parents and uncle. And more than anything she wished Thundercracker were here – she could have used his gentle guidance. But she was determined to make them proud of her. If they could see her from the Well of All Sparks, she hoped they would approve of what she was doing, and be happy for her.

"I assume I can deduce the answer to this already," Shockwave said at last, "but I will formally ask the question anyhow. Decepticon Seeker Glory, are you willing to aid the Decepticons in making a stand against Galvatron?"

She didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes. Neutral colony or not, I'm still a Decepticon at spark. You can count on my help."

"Excellent." He lowered his hand and nodded back at the cliff, where the neutral base gleamed as a collection of steel buildings. "We'd best return. Bulldog will want to meet you, and ensure you aren't a threat."

She nodded again, though a lump of apprehension built in her fuel tank in response. With a bounty on her head, it was possible Bulldog would decide she was too much of a risk to keep around and send her away… or worse, turn her in for the reward. Perhaps Shockwave would be able to talk him into keeping her on, but the thought still worried her. Was she truly safe here, or would she be hunted no matter where she went?

* * *

The contrast between Galvatron and Bulldog couldn't be more striking. Galvatron insisted on having the biggest and the best in their base, turning the common room into a throne room and occupying the largest room in the barracks. He had a flair for the bombastic and overdramatic, practically roaring out every sentence and declaring war and death at the slightest upset. And he looked regal and striking, almost exotic, with a sleek violet chassis and crowned helm that would have looked stately on a less crazed mechanism.

In contrast, the meeting with Bulldog took place in a tiny, run-down office at the far end of the main building at the base. The room was cluttered with datapads and filmplast document sheets, and judging by the berth almost hidden under a stack of 'pads and empty energon cubes he probably slept here too. The mech in question was broadly built, but looked more like a front-line grunt than a charismatic commander, with thick treads on his shoulders marking his tank alt mode, and a bulky, thickly-armored chassis. His bronzish-brown armor was riddled with scratches and dents, and one of his optics had been replaced with a metal patch. He didn't even look up as Glory and Shockwave entered the room, busy muttering to himself as he filled out some sort of report.

"Commander Bulldog," Shockwave greeted, bowing at the waist. "I have brought the femme before you as you requested, my liege."

"Save the bootlickin', Shocks," Bulldog grumbled, not bothering to look up. "You ain't foolin' me; we all know your loyalty lies with Megatron."

"Have I not renounced my status as a Decepticon?" Shockwave replied earnestly. "Have I not been a loyal and productive member of the colony? Your distrust wounds me, sir."

Bulldog raised his head to glare at Shockwave, then tilted his head back as if rolling his remaining optic. "Fraggit, enough with the silver vocalizer, Shocks. You know I don't trust you. You've behaved yourself this far, but I ain't gonna let my guard down either. I know your past."

"Very well," Shockwave replied, dropping all pretense of flattery. "But I know your past as well, Bulldog. And if every former commander among the Decepticons must come under suspicion, would you not fall under that category?"

Bulldog narrowed his good optic. "This ain't a discussion to have in front of the new recruit. We'll talk later." He turned to regard Glory. "This her?"

Glory wasn't sure whether to follow Shockwave's example or not. She settled for a salute. "Seeker Glory, sir. I wish to join your colony."

"At ease, Glory," Bulldog ordered, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. "We don't stand on formality here. Somethin' I have to keep reminding Shocks here." He jerked his head toward Shockwave. "What's got you seeking asylum with us? Tired of fighting? On the run? Price on your head?"

There was going to be no escaping it, was there? "I'm wanted as a traitor by Galvatron."

"Hmph." He didn't look particularly surprised or disturbed by that news. "Seems to happen a lot. Blitz and Octane are on his hit list as well if I remember right. What'd you do, sneeze in his presence?"

"I was involved in a plan to assassinate his lieutenant, Cyclonus."

Bulldog rebooted his optic in surprise, and gave a low whistle. "Real treason, then, not some hissy fit on Galvatron's part. Tryin' to pull a Starscream?"

Why did everyone assume that? She opened her mouth to deny it, but Shockwave quietly nudged her and gave her a look. He had no face to express with, but something about the angle of his headfins indicated she had better not give the real reason to the neutral leader.

"He was hard on all the fliers, sir," she replied. "He was a cruel taskmaster, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to get rid of him for our safety." Close enough to the truth without revealing her and Shockwave's true goal, she figured.

Bulldog tapped his fingers on the desk as he considered. "All right, then. We'll give you a trial run here, and if you fit in well and don't stir up trouble, you're welcome to stay permanently. But this place has rules, Seeker. And I expect them to be followed if we're going to maintain some semblance of order here."

"Yes, sir."

"Rule one – the Decepticon sigils come off. We've got no factions here, and who you were before you touched down here means nothin' anymore. Rule two – everyone pulls their weight. You'll be assigned a job and be expected to do it. Slackin' off gets your energon rations cut. Rule three – you start a fight here, you get booted off planet and blacklisted from ever comin' back. Most of us came here to get away from the fightin' and we'd rather not have it brought back." He pulled a datapad out of one of the stacks on his desk and punched some information into it. "You up for flyin' patrols, or is that beneath you?"

"No, sir. Patrols are just fine."

He nodded in satisfaction and handed her the datapad. "Fill that out with your basic info and bring it back by nightfall. We'll have you added into our rosters. Welcome aboard, Glory. Shockwave, get her sigils removed, will you? Then take her to Stormrunner to get started on evening patrols."

"As you command, sir." Shockwave snapped a crisp salute.

"Don't YOU start," Bulldog groaned. "Get outta here."

Shockwave turned and strode out. Glory subspaced the datapad and hurried after him.

"What is your first impression of our leader?" Shockwave inquired, as if this were nothing more than a learning experience assigned by a teacher.

"He seems fairly strict," she replied. "But kind despite that. He sort of reminds me of how Onslaught was when I was his student."

Shockwave nodded. "Bulldog grew tired of the war about twenty vorns ago, and deserted his post in order to retire and start this colony. He is a decent enough leader, but incredibly stubborn. He will be of no use in our campaign."

Glory caught the subtle implication in Shockwave's words – that if Bulldog got in their way when the time came to move out to Chaar, he would have to be eliminated. She hoped to avoid that if they could, though. Stubborn or not, Bulldog didn't seem like a bad mech, and perhaps he would listen to reason when the time came. Or perhaps, given his obvious dislike for Galvatron, they could enlist his aid. Even if he didn't want to fight alongside them, perhaps he could supply their army while they made their attack…

"This is Stormrunner, leader of the aerial patrols on Beta Geode," he said suddenly, cutting into her thoughts. "You will be under her command while you are here."

She gave a slight shake of her head, returning to reality, and looked up. Another Seeker was walking toward them, a jet-black femme with silver highlights and scarlet wing stripes. She was about a handspan shorter than Glory, with shorter but broader wings and a slightly stockier build, and though her frame looked older and more battered than Glory's, she still walked with a spring in her step.

"So this is the new one," Stormrunner noted, looking Glory up and down briefly before extending a hand. "Good to have another Seeker on board. These former-Autobot fliers are like newbuilts once you get 'em in the air – the slightest gust of wind and they're down. Sandstorm was picking crystal shards out of his plating for days… oh, look at me, I'm rambling."

Glory couldn't help but smile in return. She decided she liked Stormrunner already.

"Hold still," Shockwave ordered, and she felt a strange peeling sensation as the gunformer stripped the Decepticon seals from her wings. "With any luck, these will be replaced shortly."

"You keep saying that, Shockwave," Stormrunner noted. "But it never happens. I'm beginning to think this revolution of yours is never going to happen."

"We need to increase our numbers," Shockwave replied. "We're too few to successfully rout Galvatron and his followers."

"All one of them," Stormrunner retorted.

"Cyclonus may be his only loyal lackey, but fear of punishment motivates many more to follow him, regardless of their true feelings," Shockwave countered. "With the proper motivation, perhaps we can sway them…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "This is a conversation for another time. I am entrusting Glory to your charge for now, that she may learn the proper patrol routes and procedures."

Stormrunner's jaw dropped. "Shockwave… did you say Glory?"

Shockwave's headfins flicked once in puzzlement. "I did. I was not aware you knew her."

Glory frowned. She'd never met Stormrunner before now. Not even during her days on Cybertron – her mother had been the only Seeker who frequented the labs, and she had seen others only in passing. How could this femme recognize her?

"Oh Primus," Stormrunner murmured, raising a hand to her mouth. "Can it be…"

"Do I know you?" she asked finally.

"Oh, probably not," Stormrunner admitted. "But I've heard of you… and you knew Skywarp, didn't you? My creation?"

It was Glory's turn to stare in shock. It couldn't be… it just wasn't possible… "You're Skywarp's creator?"

"One of them," she replied, a sad smile crossing her faceplate. "Myself and Wavebreaker, my bondmate. We… we never had other creations. Skywarp was quite a handful by himself. But we loved him dearly, and hearing that he'd passed in the Battle of Autobot City… it was a blow." Her optics clouded briefly with emotion. "After the battle, Frenzy contacted us and asked us if we'd be willing to look after you, as your own caretaker had died in the battle as well. We agreed, but before you could come to us Unicron attacked. We assumed you had been killed in the destruction."

Glory felt her spark swell with emotion – renewed grief at the loss of her uncle and Skywarp, but also unexpected happiness at meeting Skywarp's creator. She had looked up to the black Seeker as part of her family, like a second uncle, and losing him had been almost as hard as losing Thundercracker. Perhaps she and Stormrunner weren't connected by shared programming, but meeting her was like finding long-lost family – someone linked to her by a loved one, an adoptive family member of sorts.

"Well… I'm here now," she said at last, smiling. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"

Stormrunner laughed, reaching up to wipe her optics. "You're upgraded now… I guess you won't need a lot of looking after, will you?"

"I sure hope not," Glory replied with a chuckle. "We've got a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"We do… but later." Stormrunner nodded out at the crystalline plain. "While we're on duty, I'm your commander, and we won't have time for chitchat. The rest of this conversation will have to wait until your shift is over."

"That's just fine." But as the two of them transformed and took to the air, she found herself suddenly anxious for the patrol flight to be over. There was so much she wanted to ask Stormrunner, so many questions she had, and she only hoped they would be able to find time to discuss them all.

* * *

"…and once you make your report to me, you're home free," Stormrunner finished, touching down outside a large building that she'd identified as a recreation hall of sorts. "Any questions?"

"None really," Glory confessed, transforming and landing beside her. "You were pretty thorough."

Stormrunner nodded. "It's not a hard job, just long and tedious. Not a lot happens out here – Galvatron doesn't bother with us and the Autobots leave the neutral colonies alone. Scavengers drop in every so often, but they're easy to scare off. The worst thing you'll probably have to deal with is the locals – the star-drags get territorial and might take a swipe at you if you get too close. If you run into one, call for back-up. Don't try to take it on by yourself; they're nasty when they're provoked."

"Got it."

Stormrunner smiled. "You're gonna do just fine, Glory. I can feel it." She motioned into the rec hall. "Evening energon break. We'd better get in and get our share before the groundpounders hog all the good stuff."

Glory ducked into the rec hall, rebooting her optics to get them adjusted to the dimmer light in the building. The hall seemed to serve as a communal refueling area, and it was packed with mechs of all shapes and sizes, from hulking tankformers and shuttleformers to sleek car-modes to tiny cassette-bots that scurried underfoot like young sparklings. The room buzzed and rippled with conversation and laughter as mechs relaxed and unwound from the day's work, sharing gossip and jokes with one another with the ease of old friends. Again, Glory couldn't help but see this scene and contrast it with the one back home – mechs huddled over their cubes as if it were the last refueling of their lives, exchanging grim looks and suspicious glances, the only conversation exchanged being grumbled complaints and mutinous whispers.

Stormrunner stepped up to an energon dispenser and filled two cubes, handing Glory one. "Mid-grade. Bulldog restricts the high-grade for special occasions, though mechs have been known to distill their own in their quarters. Careful accepting any from Blitzwing; his blends'll knock you clean off your thrusters."

"I've never had high-grade before," Glory confessed, sneaking a sip of her own cube. The flavor was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, exotic and sweet. "Where does this come from? It doesn't taste like it comes from a power plant."

"Volcanoes, lava vents, geothermal activity, that sort of thing," Stormrunner replied. "There's a good reason Bulldog chose this planet – it's self-sufficient energy-wise, so we aren't dependent on incoming shipments to keep the colony going."

That was worth knowing… and most likely the reason Shockwave had chosen this particular neutral colony to bide his time and gather his followers. It would be fairly easy for him to collect and stockpile his own store of energy in preparation for an invasion. She wondered if she could convince him to send a relief shipment to Chaar to help the mechs there, or if that would end up making matters worse. Somehow she doubted Galvatron would accept help from neutrals, let alone a Decepticon who had willingly renounced his sigil.

Stormrunner bypassed the first table, where a dark green cassette-carrier and a magenta-and-aqua helicopter-former were playing a dice game while they refueled, and moved to sit down at the second. A blue-and-gold boatformer scooted over to make room for her, and once she was settled in he leaned over to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. Glory guessed that this must be Wavebreaker, Skywarp's paternal creator, and with a smile she sat down across from them.

"Off stirring up trouble as usual, Storm?" the boatformer asked with a grin.

"As always," she teased back. "Just showing our newest recruit the patrol route. You know that's always trouble."

"Isn't it?" he asked, and extended a hand toward Glory. "Wavebreaker, commander of the aquatics on Beta Geode – which'll be me and one other mech, but hey, that's better than being the only one, right?"

Glory laughed and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Glory."

Just like Stormrunner, Wavebreaker's mouth fell open upon hearing her name. "No way… you're TC's kid!"

"Niece," she corrected. "But he raised me… I suppose that makes him like a father to me."

"Hey, family's family, no matter how they're connected," Wavebreaker replied. "Good to finally see you! We wondered what happened to you after… well, after everything."

She gazed down into her cube, the memory of "everything," as Wavebreaker had put it, suddenly weighing heavily on her spark. "Swindle and Frenzy never told me they wanted you to raise me. But I guess it doesn't matter now… Galvatron happened, then Unicron… then Chaar. My childhood didn't last very long – I was upgraded for my own safety. They were afraid Galvatron would come after me and hurt me in one of his rages, and they figured I would be able to better defend myself in an adult chassis."

Stormrunner's optics flared in mingled shock and disgust. "Then it's true… he's insane."

"Insane and unfit to lead," Wavebreaker replied. "We were hoping the rumors were exaggerated, but I guess they aren't. Or at least not by much. Did he really try to blow up Cybertron?"

"A few times," Glory replied. "But I'd rather not talk about it." Even light years away from Chaar, it seemed she couldn't escape it. Would every mech she encountered here demand a report on how things were going on that wretched world, or want to hear all the grim details of how psychotic their leader was? Primus, she hoped not. She would rather not relive those days.

"Fancy meeting you again."

She turned to face the speaker. The carformer femme from the medbay sat on her left, regarding her curiously. Seated on the femme's other side was Blitzwing, who was looking very interested in his cube about now and not even daring to shoot her a glance. Privately she wondered what his problem was, but figured she could corner him later and ask. Funny… years ago she had been nervous around the triple-changer, but now the tables were turned and he seemed to be the nervous one.

"Feeling any better?" she asked. "Any glitches? Pain? Something I should know about?"

Glory shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you." She hesitated, then asked the question gnawing at her CPU. "Are you an Autobot?"

The femme smirked. "No Autobots here, sweetspark. No Decepticons either. Everyone's neutral, at least technically." She took a swig of her fuel. "To be more specific, though, no, I'm not a former Autobot. I was created a Decepticon."

"Oh." That stumped her. The car-femme's body type was obviously Praxian, but Praxus had been an Autobot city. Why would a Decepticon wear that type of chassis?

"And to answer the question that must be burning in your CPU, yes, I was made this way on purpose," the femme went on, with the sort of tone of one who had explained this countless times before. "I was part of a set group of Decepticons made with Autobot body types, so we could infiltrate the Autobot ranks and serve as spies and saboteurs. Of course, those days are over, but I like this form too much to want to change it."

That explained it, and actually made quite a bit of sense. It would make a spy's job much harder if they had to do their spying in a Seeker frame, after all. "I didn't catch your name."

"Steelwing. Former spy, now medic." The femme extended her hand, and Glory took it. "Nice to see you passed Bulldog's scrutiny. He tends to be tougher on Decepticons who want sanctuary here, which is odd given that he used to be one."

"He knows what we're all like by now," Blitzwing grumbled, speaking up at last. "Maybe he just figures he's got a right to be cautious."

"He seemed okay to me," Glory replied. "A little strict, but better than… than some leaders."

"Than Galvatron," Blitzwing corrected. "Then again, anything woulda been better than THAT crazed freak. Slag, Starscream woulda been better. Can't believe he's still in charge, you'd think someone woulda stabbed him in the neck and taken over by now-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Glory cut in, a little more irritably than she intended. Could these mechs just leave the subject of Galvatron alone for a little while? Or was it a testament to how bad things had gotten under the mad-mech's reign, that even those out of his grasp couldn't seem to escape him fully?

Stormrunner reached across the table and patted her arm comfortingly. "I know you've been through a difficult time, Glory. And I can only imagine how bad things have gotten back on Chaar. But I promise you that now that you're here, things will get better. Maybe not immediately, but they'll get better."

Glory managed a smile. Perhaps Stormrunner was only saying this to comfort her, but it did help lighten her spark a bit. And she was right – here, at least, she had a chance of helping overthrow Galvatron. Here, she was in a position to help her friends, and make things better for the Decepticons. It might take time, but at least they could get things started.

"Speaking of things getting better, I got a message from Octane today," Wavebreaker announced. "There's going to be a big meeting of all Decepticons still answering to Shockwave in a week's time."

"So soon?" asked Steelwing, raising an optic ridge. "There's not even two dozen of us."

"It's a meeting, not an attack party," Wavebreaker pointed out. "My guess is he just wants to touch base and make sure we're all still game for this mission. Whenever it happens – he's been promising it'll happen soon for almost a year now."

Stormrunner sighed. "If he's going to try removing Galvatron from the throne, he'd better hurry. If he waits any longer, his followers are going to lose faith and truly throw their lot in with the neutrals. He won't have a Decepticon cause left to defend."

Glory stared into her cube, those words leaving a leaden feeling in her fuel tank. So things were worse off than she suspected, and Galvatron's reign had damaged the Decepticons far more than she had realized. Were they truly so quick to give up on the cause, preferring to go neutral over trying to make things better? What of the other Decepticon colonies – had they given up too? Had they resigned themselves to the fact that things would never improve, and elected to strike out on their own over trying to remove the cause of their downfall?

She tightened her grip on the cube. No… she refused to believe that. Shockwave hadn't given up, and from the sound of it neither had Soundwave. And surely there were other Decepticons out there, ones who had escaped both Unicron's destruction and Galvatron's tyranny – an empire that had spanned the galaxy couldn't just crumble overnight, could it? There had to be others dedicated to the cause, others who would not only help place a stronger, more capable leader in charge, but retake Cybertron as well.

They couldn't give up hope yet. Her mother had longed for a Cybertron that would be safe for her daughter. Though that hadn't happened, the least she could do was ensure Cybertron would be safe for the Decepticons once again.

"You're awfully quiet, kid," Blitzwing noted. "What's on your mind?"

She looked up from her cube. "I'll be there. At the meeting. There's a way to destroy Galvatron and restore order to the Decepticons. We just have to find it."

Steelwing smirked. "Least someone here has some confidence in our esteemed leader. We could use more like her." Her expression turned sympathetic. "You look beat though, kid… Storm, why don't you take her to the barracks? She's had a long day, and I'd like her to take it easy awhile until she's fully recovered."

"I'm fine, really," Glory insisted, though truth be told she was exhausted. So much had happened today, and she still wasn't sure that she'd managed to process it all.

"Listen to the medic, Glory," Wavebreaker advised, chuckling. "You think the Autobots were the only ones with a medic who would weld your aft to the berth if you didn't listen to orders? That's nice compared to what Steelwing's been known to do."

"I've never welded an aft in my life," Steelwing retorted. "A few mouths when someone wouldn't shut up…"

The two continued to bicker good-naturedly as Stormrunner took Glory's arm and led her out of the rec hall. Despite her exhaustion, she felt better than she had in a long time. For the first time, she felt hope – hope that she could finally set things right for the Decepticons, and help them make their way to a brighter future.


	17. Mission

From her hiding place – a cluster of black crystals so dark they were nearly opaque – Glory had a perfect view of the star dragon nest. A ring of fire-blackened stones, much like the human-made campfire rings back on Earth, it contained three orbs as smooth and clear as glass, each the size of her clenched fist. If she peered closely enough, she could almost make out the transparent form of the hatchling curled up inside each one, awaiting the right moment to emerge.

She almost shifted a bit to get more comfortable, but thought better of it and held as still as she could. She'd come across this nest on her patrols, and though Stormrunner and Shockwave had both cautioned her to avoid the star dragons whenever possible, curiosity had gotten the better of her. These creatures were fascinating – ever since she was young she'd had a soft spot for Cybertron's cyberdragons, and the star dragons were so similar to them that she couldn't help but marvel at them.

Just a few yards away crouched an adult dragon, so still that one could have taken it for an ice sculpture instead of a living being. Like the rest of its kind, it was a creature of living crystal, each scale and horn seemingly carved from the shining material. Unlike other star dragons she had seen, which were often tinted with spectacular colors, this one was as colorless as a diamond, though no less dazzling for it.

And despite the dragon being so still, she knew that all she had to do was move or make a sound – or even switch her coloring from black to violet – for the creature to spot her and leap to its nest's defense. Even if they weren't as intelligent as a Cybertronian, the dragons were still fiercely protective of their young.

 _I won't hurt you,_ she thought at the creature, though she knew it was unlikely that the dragons were telepathic. _I just want to watch. I've been hoping I can see your eggs hatch… I just hope I get the chance before we have to leave this planet…_

As if on cue, a faint chirp issued from one of the eggs, and she thought she could see movement through the transparent shell. The adult dragon blinked, then rose to its feet and gave a throaty roar that made the crystal all around Glory vibrate. She tensed, wondering if it had picked up her scent, or if it was simply warning off predators or signaling its mate.

The dragon lowered its head and gently nosed the eggs, then opened its mouth and breathed a stream of what looked to be liquid plasma over them, possibly to warm them. The energy further blackened the stones but left the eggs unmarked. If anything, the plasma seemed to only further excite the hatchlings, and all three eggs began to rock, the hatchlings within chirping and tapping at their shells.

A second dragon touched down, this one a sapphire blue, and it briefly touched noses with its mate before approaching the nest. Through the transparent scales covering its throat something seemed to be glowing… though what, Glory couldn't tell. These creatures didn't have sparks, did they?

One shell cracked open with a sound like breaking glass, revealing a bright green snout. Glory didn't even dare operate her fans, not wanting to startle the dragons and cut her observation short. Let the others laugh at her, or think she was courting trouble by daring to get so close to the beasts. She wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

The clear dragon gave another audial-splitting bellow before lowering its head to touch noses with the green hatchling, which peeped in response and began wriggling free of its shell. Even as it staggered free, bedraggled wings trailing behind it like a damp cloak, the second egg began to crack open, then the third. Chirps and squeals filled the air, interspersed with the crack and tinkle of breaking crystal.

The second hatchling emerged, as black as the crystals Glory was hiding in, and promptly flopped against the rocks making up its nest, panting with exhaustion from the effort of hatching. The blue dragon rumbled encouragingly before turning its attention to the final egg, which was rocking furiously now. The clear dragon was busying itself with the other two hatchlings, nuzzling and licking them, familiarizing itself with them.

Finally the last egg burst open, revealing a squalling ruby hatchling. It shook itself, scattering fragments of crystal shell all over, then looked up at the blue dragon and gave a demanding sort of chirp. Glory clamped her mouth shut, trying to choke back a laugh. What a little character.

The blue dragon rumbled again, then lowered its head and let something slide out of its mouth and into the nest – what looked to be molten lava, the star dragons' main food source. The dragonets squeaked in excitement and crowded forward, gulping the stuff down.

Glory grimaced in disgust at that. Well, she supposed it made sense – the dragons didn't exactly have hands, so carrying food to their hatchlings in their mouths and throats was probably the best alternative. Still, she was at least thankful that Cybertronians didn't have to resort to such measures.

Right away it was apparent that the red hatchling, though smaller, was by far the most aggressive and assertive of the three, shoving its nestmates aside to get its fair share of food. It hissed at its siblings if they nudged against it or got too close for its liking, and when the black one tried to push it back it earned a sharp nip to one wing. It was all Glory could do not to laugh. The little one's attitude reminded her so much of another…

Finally all three dragonets seemed sated, and the green and black hatchlings promptly curled up within the circle of stones and settled in to rest. The red dragonet was far more restless, padding around its nestmates and sniffing at the stones. The blue dragon nudged it toward the center of the nest, like a parent trying to urge their sparking to the berth for recharge, but the red hatchling hissed and swatted at its parent's muzzle.

The blue dragon blinked, surprised at the motion, then grunted and forcibly pushed the red hatchling further into the nest. The hatchling tried to squirm free, but a gentle blue paw held it down until it finally gave up and settled against his siblings with a weary sigh. Within minutes it was asleep, and the clear adult lowered itself down beside the nest, lowering a transparent wing over its young, while the blue stood guard.

Glory settled in herself, knowing she would have to wait until both adults were asleep before making her escape. It had been worth it, though – she'd had an opportunity that even the scientists among Bulldog's neutrals hadn't had. And she hoped that if she continued to spend time around the star dragons, they would accept her presence. Especially that spirited red one.

 _Wildfire,_ she thought, a little wistfully. _He's so much like Wildfire._ Reincarnation was a human conceit, one that Cybertronians in general found silly. But some small part of her fancied that perhaps her beloved bodyguard somehow lived on in that hatchling.

She watched the little red twitch restlessly in its sleep, lips curling back as it snapped at imaginary prey in its dreams. When the time came to leave the planet, perhaps she could arrange to smuggle young Wildfire away with her. Surely Shockwave couldn't object to that.

* * *

"Where've you been, kid?" Steelwing asked, arching an optic ridge.

"Sorry I'm late," Glory replied, ducking into the cavern. "I got a little held up."

"Spying on the star-drags again?" the carformer femme asked. "You're gonna end up a chew toy for those things if you aren't careful."

"I'm always careful," Glory countered. "Have I missed anything?"

"Eh, we're still waiting on Shockers," Wavebreaker told her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You aren't too late."

She vented a sigh in relief and went to sit down between Steelwing and a magenta-and-teal helicopter-former – Spinister, she believed he was called. It had taken far longer than she had thought it would to get away from the star dragon nest – apparently they alternated sleeping by the nest and standing guard, and she'd had to wait until they were too distracted making the switch to slip away. At least they hadn't delayed her enough to miss the meeting, she supposed.

In the week she had spent on Beta Geode she had gotten to know most of the Decepticons. Maybe she didn't know them as well as the mechs she had grown up with, but she had still found friends among them, and was on speaking terms with most of the others. Most of the former Autobots tended to avoid the former Decepticons, despite all Bulldog's claims that prior factions meant nothing on this planet, but Glory wasn't particularly fussed about that. Maybe these Autobots had never directly harmed her, but Autobots had been responsible for the death of her family, and she couldn't forgive that.

Stormrunner and Wavebreaker seemed to have accepted her as family, no questions asked, and she in turn thought of them almost as grand-creators. Stormrunner did tend to be a bit overprotective, frequently radioing Glory when her patrols took her through star-drag territory and worrying if her patrols took longer than usual, but she meant well, and was always available to answer questions or explain base procedure. And she was quite willing to pass on her flying expertise to a younger Seeker, teaching her new aerial maneuvers and coaching her in her flight drills. She had even trained Thundercracker when he had been young, a fact that had thrilled Glory to no end.

Wavebreaker was far more laid-back than his bondmate, and Glory had no problem believing that he was Skywarp's creator – there wasn't a single mech in this base, Bulldog and Shockwave included, that hadn't fallen victim to one of his pranks. Even Glory and Stormrunner weren't immune – the two of them came back from a patrol flight one day and hit the washracks, only to find someone had replaced the cleanser with bright pink paint. But somehow that only endeared him more in her optics, and he had regaled her with tales of his more epic pranks as well as stories about Skywarp's childhood and youth. Stormrunner frequently remarked that she didn't have a bondmate, she had another sparkling to look after, but Glory got the impression that his antics didn't annoy her as much as she said they did.

Steelwing, too, had accepted her rather quickly, though as a friend rather than family. Glory had thought her Autobot body type would be rather off-putting at first, but she found she quickly got used to it. The spy-turned-medic had a rather dry, sarcastic sense of humor, and seemed to take a liking to the young Seeker, frequently inviting her to sit with her at breaks to exchange gossip and talk about their lives. Glory found her stories from behind enemy lines quite thrilling, and though she felt her own life among Megatron's forces had been rather bland in comparison, Steelwing seemed to think them fascinating.

Blitzwing… the triple-changer's behavior puzzled her. Before his exile he had virtually ignored her, save that encounter with Galvatron where he had saved her life. Even when she and the cassettes had pranked him while she'd been a sparkling, he'd gotten upset but hadn't held a grudge against her. She, in turn, had pretty much accepted him as part of the scenery of the base – neither friend nor foe, just simply there.

Now, though, he seemed weird… well, weirder than usual. At times he would talk to her, either asking for updates on what had happened in the time he'd been gone or joining in on conversations with their mutual friend Steelwing. But other times he would seem to be actively avoiding her, moving to the other side of the room or corridor if he saw her coming or intentionally trying to avoid conversation. A few times she had caught him staring at her, and she wondered if she should find that creepy at all. She could understand that he probably still found it odd to see her as an adult instead of a sparkling, but this was just ridiculous.

Speaking of which, the triple-changer ducked into the cavern at that moment, followed closely by Shockwave. The violet gunformer moved to the head of the cavern, while Blitzwing scanned the crowd looking for a place to sit. He spotted Steelwing, and took a step toward her as if aiming to sit near her, but once he saw Glory he promptly moved to the other side of the cavern.

"What's his problem?" Glory wondered aloud.

"Whose problem?" Steelwing asked.

"Blitzwing's… is it me or is he avoiding us?"

"Hmmm…" Steelwing regarded the triple-changer as he squeezed into a spot between Octane and Nightwatch, a black-and-orange Seeker. "Sure looks like he is."

"Why, though? Is he upset with us or something?"

Steelwing smirked a little, and her doorwings hitched higher, a sign that she knew something amusing but was choosing not to divulge it quite yet. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea…"

Glory would have tried needling her for an explanation, but Shockwave began speaking at that moment. "If you are present at this meeting, it means you are committed to the cause of removing Galvatron from power and instating a proper leader over the Decepticons."

"Duh," muttered Spinister.

"We have recently lost contact with our informant on Chaar," Shockwave went on, ignoring Spinister. "Given both this turn of events and the information acquired from our most recent recruit, it is plain that the situation has become dire enough that immediate action is required. We must eliminate Galvatron immediately, before he cripples the Decepticon forces beyond repair."

"How?" asked Stormrunner. "There's only a handful of us." She gestured about the cavern, where only about twenty mechs and femmes were gathered to hear Shockwave's words. "How can we hope to succeed?"

"We have recently acquired a recruit who is more familiar with the situation on Chaar than myself," Shockwave told her. "Glory, can you give us an update?"

Glory rebooted her optics, stunned at being put on the spot. But she stood and spoke anyhow, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "Galvatron still has quite a few mechs under his command, including at least three gestalt teams and a fleet of Sweeps. However, the base on Chaar is constantly undersupplied and underpowered, seeing as it's difficult for us to acquire supplies and energy. Up until recently there was a truce between Optimus Prime and Galvatron, a ceasefire that allowed us to restock and recover… but Galvatron broke that truce with the attack on the Olympus Mons base, and we're expecting the Autobots to retaliate at any time."

"Underpowered they might be," Beatbox, a green cassette-carrier, pointed out, "but they still outnumber us. And a gestalt is still a force to be reckoned with, even if it's under-energized."

"Which gestalts?" asked Nightwatch.

"Menasor, Bruticus, and Predaking," she replied. "Devastator's out of commission at the moment." She couldn't bring herself to elaborate – knowing she had gotten Hook and Scrapper branded as traitors still stung.

"What the frag is a Sweep anyhow?" asked Wavebreaker. "Makes me think of a Seeker with a broom." Steelwing snorted in laughter as Stormrunner cuffed the boat-former over the helm.

"Blue batlike mech who's supposed to be an expert huntsman, though I haven't seen any evidence of that for myself," Blitzwing put in, scowling.

"How many Sweeps are under Galvatron's command at this point?" asked Shockwave.

"No way to know," Blitzwing replied. "More keep showing up no matter how many die in battle. We suspect they can clone themselves like Insecticons."

"The point is we need to go into this with a plan," Stormrunner cut in. "Not just charge in blindly and start shooting. Not only are we outnumbered, but it's possible we still have allies on Chaar that either can't or won't leave the planet to join us. And I don't know about anyone else, but I'd rather not cut down a possible ally."

"Agreed," Shockwave replied, "and eliminating Galvatron only solves part of the problem. If the Decepticon Empire is to survive, we need to have a long-term plan to rebuild our numbers and strengthen our forces. And above all, we need to decide on a proper leader."

"Who do you propose?" asked Blitzwing, his tone icy. "Yourself?"

"If no better candidate is available, then yes," Shockwave replied. "Unless you have a better suggestion, Blitzwing? Yourself, perhaps?"

Blitzwing shook his head, though the glint in his visor made Glory wonder if he wasn't seriously considering that thought. She'd heard the stories about how he and Astrotrain had double-crossed both Starscream and Megatron and tried to take command before…

"You all seem to be forgetting the biggest strike against us," Nightwatch pointed out. "We have no feasible means of rebuilding our numbers. All keys for Vector Sigma are in the hands of the Autobots… as are all our sparklings."

"Ah, yes… Cyclonus' exchange of prisoners with Rodimus years ago," Shockwave mused. "A most short-sighted move on his part – warriors may be more valuable in the short term, but sparklings would have ensured our long-term survival." He nodded at the Seeker. "We will have to make plans on that front as well."

"How many plans you thinkin' of, Shocks?" demanded Octane, scowling. "We can only be spread so thin, y'know."

"There is no reason why we cannot move out on multiple fronts," Shockwave retorted. "Time is a valuable commodity, and we need to accomplish much in a very short time."

"Shouldn't we eliminate Galvatron first?" asked Steelwing. "Once he's out of the way, we can concentrate on other things, like the keys. I'd think getting a toxic commander out of the way would be first priority."

"True," Shockwave acknowledged. "But until we have a more concrete plan for overthrowing Galvatron, perhaps we should focus our energies on a task that we know we can accomplish, and will ultimately benefit our cause." He pointed to Beatbox. "How many of your cassettes are ready for duty?"

"Five," he replied. "Six if I recall Whitenoise from Bulldog's office. Why?"

"Send two cassettes to Chaar to assess the situation there, and four others to Pandora, Tethys, Neo-Kaon, and Bast. We had outposts on those worlds at one time… have your cassettes find those outposts, determine if they are still active, and try to make contact with their leaders. If there remains even one active outpost that can ally themselves to our cause, it could make all the difference."

Beatbox nodded. "Yessir."

Shockwave scanned the rest of the gathered Decepticons, headfins twitching in concentration. "It will look suspicious if a large number of us are gone at once, but… perhaps two teams of three will be sufficient. Stormrunner, I want you to take Spinister and Nightwatch and go to Cybertron – the Polyhex district where the laboratories once stood. The scientists there once had a key in their possession, and if it was not destroyed along with the labs, it may still be there."

"And if it's not there?" asked Stormrunner.

"Search as far as you are able without being caught," Shockwave replied. "And above all, take care to not be spotted or captured. We cannot afford to lose any of our numbers at this point."

She nodded. "Understood."

Shockwave's gaze swept the cavern, pausing a few times as he quietly selected members of the next group. "The second team will comprise Steelwing, Glory, and Blitzwing, with Steelwing serving as commander. You still have an active alternate identity among the Autobots, Steelwing?"

"A few of my pseudonyms are presumed KIA," she replied. "But the Hardware, Blinker, and Quicksilver personas should still be active. MIAs, but the Autobots tend to not question too much if an MIA suddenly shows up alive and well years after the fact."

"Do any of those personas have access to the Iacon archives?"

Steelwing's expression shifted to disgust, but she nodded anyhow. "Blinker does. She's a junior archivist who vanished in the Dead Sector just before the Battle of Unicron. She could resurface if she had to." She lowered her voice so only Glory could hear. "Even if some of us wish she'd stay buried…"

"Then assume that identity and go to Cybertron, and search for any sign of a key in the archive repository. Glory and Blitzwing will accompany you."

"Sir?" Stormrunner spoke up, standing quickly. "With all due respect, sir, Glory is still rather young and inexperienced. Don't you think this mission is a bit dangerous for her?"

Despite her fondness for the black Seeker, Glory couldn't help but bristle a bit at the implication that she was incapable of this task. "I'm not a sparkling anymore, Stormrunner. I can handle myself out there. I've fought Dinobots and Aerialbots and come out on top…"

"There's a difference between a single Dinobot or Aerialbot and the entire Autobot army," Stormrunner countered. "I don't want to see you hurt…"

"Why are we suddenly coddling the newbuilt?" demanded Spinister, optics narrowing in annoyance.

"I'm not coddling her!" Stormrunner shot back. "I just think someone with more experience…"

"If you prevent Glory from accepting this mission, Stormrunner, you will prevent her from gaining the experience she needs to be a productive member of our forces," Shockwave cut in. "Young she may be, but she is hardly weak or unfit for duty. I deem her suitable for this mission."

Stormrunner looked like she wanted to argue, but Wavebreaker grabbed her arm and pulled her back into her seat. She complied grudgingly.

"If there are no questions or arguments…" Shockwave paused, but no one spoke up. "Then you are all dismissed. Beatbox, Stormrunner, Steelwing, I expect your teams to move out first thing in the morning. Try not to attract Bulldog's attention on your way out."

As the crowd dispersed, heading for the cavern entrance, Glory stood and started to make her way over to Stormrunner. A hand on her arm stayed her, however.

"Easy, kid," Steelwing advised. "You know she meant well."

Glory pulled her arm free. "I'm not a child anymore. I can handle myself out there. I just wish she could see that."

"Just take it as a sign that she cares about you, kid," Steelwing replied. "And don't worry – if you act responsibly under my command, I'll treat you like an adult. Fair deal?"

Glory nodded. "Fair deal."

"Go get some rest. I'd have liked you to recover a bit more before you returned to full duty, but we don't always get what we want. We'll just hope this goes smoothly and that you don't have to push yourself too hard." She sighed. "This had better be worth it."

* * *

Sunrise and sunset were always spectacular events on Beta Geode – the crystals caught the rays of the sun and reflected them a hundredfold, making the entire landscape blaze as if it had burst into flames. This morning was no exception, and the plain spread out beneath the base's plateau glittered and flashed with pink and orange. Even the crystalline natives of the planet shone beneath the rays of the rising sun, and when they flew to and from their nests they almost looked like shooting stars.

The gathered Decepticons didn't have the luxury of admiring the view this morning, however – they were gathered to embark on vital, possibly dangerous missions, and enjoying a sunrise was difficult with that fact weighing heavily on their CPUs.

Glory raised one arm to the light, letting the orange-pink sunlight fall upon the extended armblade, and eyed the weapon critically. She could see no nicks or dents in the edge, and the metal appeared to be sound. Still, it couldn't hurt to sharpen the edge a bit more. Any Con with a melee weapon who had any sense always maintained their blade, as a dull blade on the battlefield was worthless as anything but a club, and a poor one at that.

Off to one side, Blitzwing was yanking a wire brush out of the barrel of his rifle, shaking the cleaning tool off before subspacing it. On her other side, Stormrunner was briefing her team on what to expect at the labs, and what to do in the event that they were caught. Standing apart from both teams, as if reluctant to associate himself with them, Beatbox stared out at the horizon with his arms full of his cassette partners – two humanoid in appearance, one wolflike, one a navy-blue version of Ravage's body type, and two birdlike. There was no sign of Steelwing, but then, Glory had no idea how long it took her to switch out paint jobs for a mission like this. She wouldn't start worrying until the sun was fully up, she figured.

"Sorry I'm late."

"No prob-" began Blitzwing, turning to face the Praxian. He never got the rest of the sentence out, bursting into laughter instead.

"Oh, shut up," Steelwing griped, folding her arms in front of her chest bumper.

"What'd you do, fall into an Easter egg factory?" Blitzwing cackled.

The carformer gave him a death glare, then turned to regard Glory, practically daring her to laugh as well. Despite herself, the violet Seeker couldn't suppress a bit of a chuckle. No longer the elegant black and gold of her former identity, Steelwing was now a seafoam blue, with highlights of lavender and pastel pink, and her chevron was painted a royal purple instead of the usual red. The overall effect was so ridiculous that every Decepticon present was having a difficult time keeping their composure. Even Shockwave flicked his headfins as if in amusement.

"Yuk it up all you want," Steelwing grumbled. "Just remember you laughed next time you cross my medic's table."

"Sorry," Glory giggled. "It's just… wow. Do Autobots really expect their femmes to look like that?"

Steelwing shrugged. "You'd be surprised. I've met plenty of femmes with bold color schemes and atypical body modes. But the Autobot mechs tend to not look twice at 'em, which is a shame – you'd think they'd appreciate a femme who actually looked halfway functional." She rubbed at the symbol on her chest. "At least I get to keep my chassis – no way am I switching mine out for an Elita-class form."

"What about your optics?" asked Glory. "Those might be a bit of a giveaway."

"Oh, right." Steelwing touched the side of her helm, and her scarlet optics flickered slightly before turning a soft blue-green. "Forgot to reverse the polarity. Thanks, kid."

"Anytime."

"So what's the plan, Fearless Leader?" Blitzwing snickered. "Or should I say Blinker?"

"It's Steelwing until we get to Cybertron," Steelwing replied. "And once we get there you, Blitzwing, are finally taking the Autobots up on their offer for asylum among their numbers, while the kid here is going to pick a different name and switch to her black color scheme, and try to claim sanctuary among them too. That'll keep the 'Bots off our afts while we conduct our search."

Glory frowned. "My color shifting isn't meant to be long-term. I've never tried to hold it for longer than a couple of hours."

"Frag," Steelwing muttered. "If I'd have known that I'd have taken you with me while I swapped my paintjob out, and we don't have time to run back. The only option is to keep you from being seen in public for longer than an hour or so at a stretch. It's the best we can do."

She nodded, though she couldn't help but feel a nervous pang in her fuel tanks. With a price on her helm, she had no desire to be caught out in the open in her normal colors. Autobots normally weren't mercenary enough to turn someone in for a reward, but there were always exceptions… the scavengers, for example, not to mention the infamous Devcon…

"All members of every team are present and accounted for?" asked Shockwave.

"Yessir," Steelwing reported.

"All present, sir," Stormrunner replied.

"Affirmative," Beatbox confirmed.

"Very good. I have informed Bulldog that we have received reports of possible Decepticon infiltration of this star system, and that I'm sending all of you out to investigate thoroughly. You will stagger your departures from Beta Geode by about ten minutes apiece in order to further this cover story. Regroup once you are offworld and proceed to your destinations from there. Understood?"

No one objected, and Shockwave finally nodded in satisfaction. "Stormrunner, depart first."

The black Seeker folded herself to her jet form and took off.

Glory moved to the edge of the plateau and sat down, dangling her legs over the edge. She tried to just relax and admire the view, but couldn't seem to settle down. The knowledge that she was about to return to Cybertron – to Autobot territory, no less – thrilled and terrified her. She'd never been involved in a mission of this magnitude before, and while she felt sort of honored that Shockwave thought her ready for this, she couldn't help but worry. If she screwed this up, it could mean disaster for all the Decepticons, not just herself.

"Nervous?"

She turned to see Blitzwing sitting down beside her, his visor fixed on the sky where Stormrunner was rapidly shrinking out of sight.

"A little," she admitted. "This is all new to me… and so much is riding on this."

"Don't think about that," he advised. "Just focus on what you need to do. You look too far ahead and you'll start to panic, and that's the fastest way to bungle a mission."

She nodded. "Thank you." She hesitated, wondering if she should be bringing this up, then decided now was as good a time as any. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

His visor dimmed as if he were narrowing his optics. "I ain't avoiding you."

"C'mon, every time you see me coming you bolt. I'm not that scary, am I?"

"It's just… weird, seeing you like this," he admitted. "Seeing you all upgraded and mature, when for years I knew you as TC's brat kid, hanging onto Megatron's ankles and painting the walls of the base. I knew you weren't going to stay a sparkling forever, and I even told Swindle the sooner you were upgraded, the better… but it's still weird looking at you and remembering the kid, and realizing they're the same mechanism."

She smirked. "So I was a brat?"

Blitzwing snorted. "All kids are brats. It's part of their programming."

She laughed a little at that. "I know right after my upgrade, some of the mechs back on Chaar acted funny around me… I guess I should have remembered that things like this take some getting used to." She stared down at the crystal-studded plain, contemplative. "So much has happened in so short a time… it's kind of bewildering to think about."

Blitzwing nodded. "And if things go like Shockwave plans, a lot more's gonna happen real soon."

"It'll be good things happening for once, though. Things getting better for all of us."

He smiled a little. "You always were one for seein' the best in everything."

She shrugged. "It's just who I am."

"Glory, depart," ordered Shockwave. "Move out of Beta Geode's orbit and await the rest of your team."

"Yes, sir." She pushed herself to her feet. "I guess we'll talk more later, Blitz?"

"If we get a chance. Get movin'. I'll meet you in a few."

She drew in a deep vent, then leaped, transforming and taking to the air as soon as she was off the ground. This was it… the adventure began. And wherever it took her, she hoped it would end well for all of them.


	18. Archives

If Blitzwing had things his way, he would have insisted on a nonstop flight from Beta Geode to Cybertron. He'd seen too many things go wrong during refueling stops, and he wasn't about to risk the three of them getting shot or captured just because nobody had the foresight to top off their tanks before the trip. Glory had agreed with him, much to his surprise – her run-in with the scavengers during her lone pit stop between Chaar and Beta Geode had made her wary of taking any breaks during their journey.

In the end, though, Steelwing pulled rank, insisting they stop on a barren asteroid at roughly the halfway point of their journey. The rest would do all three of them good, she reasoned, and if they had to fight once they got to Cybertron it would be disastrous to have to fight while exhausted from the trip. She did relent on one point, however, and cut their stay on the asteroid to a few hours rather than the solar cycle she had first suggested.

"Try to catch some recharge," she advised. "If you can't relax enough to do that, then at least take it easy. We'll be better off getting to Cybertron relatively rested than dropping offline from exhaustion."

Blitzwing snorted through his vents as he flopped down on a nearby boulder. Relax… good luck with that. How was anyone expected to relax when they were embarking on one of the most dangerous missions of their lives – sneaking onto an Autobot-controlled world and plotting to overthrow a madmech? Maybe Steelwing could relax – doubtless being a spy had jaded her to the hazards of the mission – but he felt way too keyed up to so much as doze off.

He glanced to the side to see Glory pacing, wings twitching, optics raking the sky as if expecting an ambush to swoop in at any moment. Well, at least one mech in their group was as restless as he was... and as cautious. Somehow that made him feel a touch better.

The Seeker finally sat down a short distance away, extending an arm blade for inspection. Blitzwing turned his gaze to the horizon, though he continued to sneak the occasional glance at her from the corner of his visor. It was still so hard to believe that this femme had once been the little sparkling who had caused such havoc back on the Nemesis. It seemed like only a matter of days ago she had been clinging to older mechs' legs and rampaging around their base in the company of the cassettes or the Stunticons.

But he was forced to admit now that Glory had grown up. Not just upgraded to an adult chassis – there was something more mature about her, an air of having seen the darker side of life and bearing the scars to prove it. That only made sense, he supposed, given that she'd lost her family to the war and her innocence to Galvatron and Cyclonus' brutal reign. Despite that, though, there were still hints of the sparkling she had once been, the delighted smile and the burning curiosity for whatever creatures they shared a world with.

She looked up from her armblade to regard him, and he snapped his gaze back to the horizon. No staring, he reminded himself – it wasn't polite. He had no idea why he was suddenly caring about proper etiquette now, though… his creator had tried to drill it into his head when he was young, but he'd done his best to toss all that training out the window once he was upgraded and out of his clutches…

"Blitz?"

He whirled. "What… oh, thought you were recharging, Steel."

"Hard to sleep when the other two members of my team can't hold still," Steelwing replied, moving to sit beside him. "I can understand the kid being antsy, though… but I've never seen you this jittery before a fight. Usually you're rarin' to go, not nervous."

He shrugged. "It's different when the stakes are this big, that's all."

"Liar," she retorted. "C"mon, spit it out already. You can't fool me." She cast a meaningful glance at Glory, who was now examining her other armblade. "It's the kid, ain't it?"

"What about her?"

"Admit it already, you like her."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"Do too, and ease up on the volume unless you want her to hear." The carformer smirked. "What's the matter? Too much of a tough guy to admit you've got a crush?"

Blitzwing screwed up his faceplate with a disgust he didn't entirely feel. "You gotta be outta your processor, Steel. Me liking the kid? That's insane. I'm old enough to be her creator."

She shrugged. "Since when did age matter with our kind? Stormrunner's almost four times Wavebreaker's age, and they're a bonded pair."

"That's different. Stormrunner didn't grow up and go to school with Wavebreaker's creator, or hang around him as a sparkling. Me likin' the kid like that would just be creepy."

Steelwing raised an optic ridge. "Hasn't stopped you, though."

"If you don't shut up-"

"I'm not trying to cause trouble, Blitz," she replied. "I'm just stating what I see as fact. Ever since the kid got here, you've been acting like a newbuilt with a crush around her. Slag, before you knew her name you were all set to hit on her, and only backpedaled when you found out you'd known her before coming here. Even she sees that something's up, even if she doesn't know what it is yet. The only reason more people don't suspect anything is because we've been too busy prepping for this mission."

Blitzwing glowered at her, but couldn't exactly deny any of what she was saying. Yes, Glory was attractive – most Seekers were, and Blitzwing had to admit he had a bit of a weakness for femmes who wore that particular model of chassis. And had she been anyone else, he might not have hesitated to try starting a relationship of some kind with her. Maybe it wouldn't have worked out – Seekers had a reputation for being snobs when it came to relationships with non-Seekers, though there were exceptions. But he would have at least given it a shot.

But the fact that this wasn't just any Seeker, but Thundercracker's niece, just made the whole situation awkward beyond belief. When he was simply talking to her as if she were another comrade, he was fine, but any thought of trying to flirt or otherwise take things further made him suddenly squeamish. It was just weird thinking of pursuing a relationship with a femme he'd known as a sparkling.

That, and he had a feeling that if Thundercracker were still alive, he'd short a circuit over the thought of Blitzwing pursuing his niece. Though given the fact that Blitzwing and Astrotrain had given the blue Seeker no small amount of grief while he was a sparkling himself, he supposed that would be understandable.

"Fine," he grunted. "Fine, I like her. Don't mean I'm going to do anything about it. She probably thinks I'm too old and ugly for her anyhow."

Steelwing shrugged. "Never know unless you ask. She might surprise you. And I've known plenty of Seekers who take on non-Seekers and even non-fliers as companions and even bondmates. Stormrunner's hardly the only one."

Blitzwing sighed and shook his head. "I doubt Glory'll even look twice at me. If she doesn't see me as a creep, she'll probably just blow me off. Not like I was all that nice to her as a kid."

The carformer sighed as well. "Primus, I feel like the only sensible mech in this group. Just fraggin' talk to her already, will you? Doesn't have to be now, but sometime soon. Because who knows what's going to happen between now and our strike on Chaar, and you might not get another chance."

"When did you become a matchmaker?"

"Just looking out for a couple of friends." She gave him a slight smile and stood. "Talk to her, Blitz. The worst she can do is say no. And I'm sure your ego'll survive a bit of rejection." And with that, she walked off, finding a shallow depression in the rocky ground to lie down and settle in for the night.

Blitzwing waited until it seemed that the Praxian was asleep, then turned back to Glory. To his surprise, the Seeker was also in recharge, seated on the ground and leaning back against a boulder, vocalizer buzzing with a soft staticky snore. So much for his chance to talk to her tonight.

He sighed and flopped back on the hard ground, offlining his optics and doing his best to will himself into recharge. He knew Steelwing had a good point – if anything happened to the kid during their mission, he was going to end up hating himself for not saying anything sooner. But how on Cybertron was he going to bring this up to the kid anyhow? "By the way, kid, I have a crush on you, hope it's not too creepy for you?" He sucked at this kind of thing – his way of handling any sort of problem usually involved fists or weapons, and neither would be much use in this mess.

Maybe it was for the best, at least. If they faced any kind of fight tomorrow, better to have the kid undistracted. Telling her he liked her would just complicate things, and complications were the last thing they needed.

* * *

"Home sweet home," Steelwing muttered, not without some touch of bitterness. "The glorious homeworld of Cybertron. Wonder how much the Autobots have screwed it up in our absence."

Despite the Praxian's cynical view, Glory couldn't suppress a surge of awe at seeing their home planet. It was as beautiful as she remembered it – perhaps more so, now that it had been given time to heal from vorns of war and destruction. The ugly tears and craters ripped into its surface by terrible battles and weapons had been smoothed over and sealed, and sectors that had once been dark and dead now glittered brightly. Even most of the floating debris that had once swarmed the planet's atmosphere had been cleaned up… save one massive piece, an irregularly-shaped satellite that hung over the planet like a misshapen moon.

"The frag is that?" Blitzwing muttered.

"Unicron's head," Steelwing replied.

Glory's entire frame trembled as an icy shiver rattled down her spinal array. "Unicron? I thought… I thought he was destroyed."

"Mostly," Steelwing replied. "I was there when Rodimus Prime vaporized him. His body and limbs were pretty much scrap, but his head survived somehow. Nobody wanted to get near enough to it to plant explosives or tow it into space – not that I blame them – so they just left it. Damn creepy if you ask me."

She shuddered again. Seeing the foreboding silhouette of Unicron's head brought back memories… memories of a chilling nightmare, where her uncle had transformed into the horrifying monster who had threatened Cybertron… of clawed hands crushing her and acid-green eyes burning into her own…

"You okay, kid?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine, Blitzwing… just tired. It's been a long trip."

"Not that long." Blitzwing sounded more amused than anything by her falsehood. "And that thing gives me the creeps too. Just glad he's dead."

"Enough with the sightseeing," Steelwing told them. "Glory, shift your color scheme. We're landing in Iacon's Platinum Square."

"Copy." Glory focused, shifting her colors to black and dull gray, then followed the Praxian down to the planet's surface. Blitzwing was close behind, staying near Glory's tailfins like a protective shadow.

Had it been Stormrunner or even Thundercracker hovering like this, she would have been slightly annoyed by their over-protectiveness. But somehow it was comforting to know Blitzwing was looking out for her like this. Maybe because it brought back memories of how he had protected her from Galvatron's wrath all those years ago, memories of some of the last secure moments of her childhood.

Or maybe it was something else… but no, it couldn't be. Blitzwing didn't like anyone; there were just certain mechanisms he hated less than others. And he'd never given any indication that he saw her as anything more than the brat who'd run wild aboard the Nemesis, painting the walls and planting firecrackers in mechs' rooms.

 _Though maybe you'd like it if he did see you as something else?_ she asked herself. _He's nice-looking for a triple-changer, and he's not a bad mech… kind of rough and aggressive, but so are the Stunticons and they're some of your best friends…_

She shook herself out of those thoughts as an abrupt hail came over her radio.

_Yo! You mechs are in restricted airspace! Gimmie a shout-out or there's gonna be a shoot-out!_

_Chill out, Blaster, it's me,_ Steelwing cut in irritably. _Hold your fire, these guys are with me and they're harmless._

 _Blinker?_ The Autobot communications officer paused, his surprise evident even in that moment of silence. _Blinker! Son of a Pinto, you're alive! Thought you were a goner when Unicron squashed the Dead Sector!_

_Do I sound dead to you? Nah, I'm alive, just needed some time off after the war… you know, to find myself after all the fighting. But I'm back now._

Blaster laughed. _Good to hear your melodious voice again, Blinker. So where you touchin' down?_

_Platinum Square in Iacon. Was hoping to get my old job in the archives back, if that's possible._

_That'll be Kup's decision, but don't see why you can't just pick up where you left off there. Elita-1's gonna meet you at the square, and Magnus wants a visit with the 'Cons. Just to be safe, you know._

_Yeah, I know. Talk to you soon, Blaster._

_You too. Got a lot to catch up on, don't we?_

"You know him?" asked Glory as Steelwing cut the connection.

"Blaster, one of Blinker's friends," Steelwing replied. "Not a bad guy, given that he's a 'Bot. Still, I wouldn't go blindly trusting him. He'll report us to Prime the second he realizes we're 'Cons."

Glory let Steelwing take the lead as they descended toward the planet. The sight of the carformer flying, even in her robot mode, was a little jarring – flying Autobots that weren't jets just struck her as unnatural. Even knowing Steelwing wasn't truly an Autobot, just a Decepticon in disguise, didn't help much.

Steelwing leveled off and began weaving her way between the towers and spires of Cybertron, the two jets close behind. Glory frowned, wondering why this particular sector of the planet was so dark and lifeless. Surely if the Autobots were serious about restoring Cybertron, they would have energized and repaired all sectors, wouldn't they? But here she could still see ragged holes in the sides of buildings, toppled towers and statues, shattered windows, and even the occasional deactivated chassis in the streets. Why would they restore one city, but leave another to crumble, not even gathering the dead for a proper entombing?

"Why're we shortcuttin' through Vos?" demanded Blitzwing. "Ya want us to get shot down or somethin'?

"Well, excuse a femme for wanting to see how her hometown fared in the war," Steelwing shot back. "Granted, I wasn't created here, but I spent much of my life here… Primus, it looks like Pit. Damn Autobots."

Well, that answered Glory's question for her – of course the Autobots wouldn't worry about restoring the Decepticon-controlled cities. Why would they want to rebuild the homes of their enemies, after all? Doubtless there were countless cities and sectors of the planet that lay in ruins like Vos, falling apart even as Iacon and Tyger Pax and Praxus were restored to glory all around them. Tesarus, Kaon, Polyhex, Tarn, Helex, Digilex, Spiralis… would they remain rotting, rusting ghost towns, testaments to the fall of the Decepticon Empire? Or would the Autobots raze them and build their own cities atop the ruins, and erase their proud legacy forever?

"Enough brooding, kid," Steelwing told her. "This won't last forever. Once we've gotten rid of Galvatron, the next step will be getting our home back."

That lightened her mood a bit, and she kept her gaze on the horizon as they continued on to Iacon.

In stark contrast to Vos, Iacon shone with lights and polished steel, the delicate spires of its Towers and the intricate lightwork of its shopping and entertainment district fully restored. The city was alive with activity, vehicles packing the streets as mechs headed to work, the gleaming snake-like shuttles of the public transit system slithering between the buildings. Steelwing altered their course to swoop down toward a plaza plated with the metal that gave it its name, the alloy gleaming pale silver like an Earth pond on a calm, overcast day.

True to Blaster's word, two mechs awaited them as they touched down – a slender pink femme with an oddly spiked helm, and a tall, bulky truckformer armored in red, white and blue. The femme gave a welcoming smile as Steelwing approached, but the truckformer only had optics for Glory and Blitzwing as they transformed and landed on their feet… and his gaze was cold, almost accusing, as if he suspected they weren't here to switch sides.

"It's good to see you again, Blinker," the femme greeted, either oblivious to her comrade's glare or electing to ignore it.

"Likewise, Elita-1," Steelwing replied, giving an easy salute. "Things have certainly changed since I've been gone."

"Cybertron is recovering from the war." Elita gestured to the buildings surrounding the square. "It's taken time, and there's still a long way to go, but Optimus is confident that we can have our world restored to its Golden Age glory within a few vorns. We may even be able to build something beautiful to replace the Decepticon monuments, and erase the terrible memories of their reign."

Blitzwing gave a quiet snarl under his air cycles, and Glory couldn't help but tense at Elita's words. As if catching their sudden unease, the other mech stepped forward, his expression hardening.

"It's all well and good to have one of our number back," he noted, "but that doesn't explain why she's shown up with a couple of Decepticons in tow." He glared at Blitzwing, who glowered right back.

"They're neutrals now," Steelwing assured him. "Though they've had enough with scraping for energy and running from trigger-happy 'Cons… they want to switch sides."

The truckformer gave her an expression that clearly said "likely story." Aloud he said "I find it hard to believe that after this long, any Decepticon would be willing to change sides. If it had been right after the war ended, I might understand, but…"

"Honestly, Ultra Magnus," Elita protested, "you're as bad as Red Alert sometimes. You know Optimus has never been in the habit of turning away any who wish to join us. Especially as bad as things have gotten on Chaar, if our reports are anything to go by. Their best hope for survival is to join us."

"Sometimes I wonder if Prime isn't a little TOO compassionate on that front," Magnus retorted. "And who's to say we can trust these two? Trusting Decepticons has never gotten us anywhere except into trouble."

"We're standing right here," Blitzwing grumbled.

"Give them a chance, Magnus," Elita advised. "They might surprise you. And we already know Blitzwing isn't welcome back among the Decepticon ranks… he has nowhere else to go. Why not welcome him among the Autobots?" She turned her gaze to Glory. "This one's been rather quiet… what's your designation, Seeker?"

Glory opened her mouth to respond, but caught herself before she could botch things by giving her real name. She hesitated, scrambling for a replacement, then spoke the first to come to mind: "Seeker Windblade, ma'am."

"Windblade… that sounds familiar, but I can't place it." She frowned. "Strange… I thought I knew the names of all the Decepticon femmes. There aren't many…"

Glory forced herself to remain still and steady, despite every instinct screaming for her to bolt before Elita called for her arrest. "I've kept my head down as much as I can, ma'am. In this day and age it isn't healthy to attract a lot of attention."

Elita nodded. "Understandable. Welcome to the Autobots, Blitzwing and Windblade. Ultra Magnus will escort you to the registration building, where we can make your change in faction official."

"Actually, ma'am, we were hoping to check in at the archives," Steelwing cut in. "I was hoping to see if I still had a job there, and these two can always register there, right?"

"The registration offices were moved for security reasons," Magnus replied. "Your friends will have to go there before we can allow them in the archives-"

"C'mon, we've come all this way together!" Blitzwing interrupted, giving Magnus his best put-out expression. "Don't split us up now! We'll behave ourselves!"

"And I've never been in any sort of archives," Glory added. "I'd love to see them for myself." She didn't have to fake the anticipation in her voice – she'd heard enough about the archives that she wanted to see them for herself.

"I don't see why we couldn't allow it just this once, Magnus," Elita noted. "There will be guards present, so it's not as if they can get up to much mischief there. It'll be just long enough for Blinker to get reassigned, then we can turn them over to your capable hands."

Magnus glared distrustfully at Blitzwing, then sighed. "Fine. But if anything happens in there, it's not on my hands." He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "They're your responsibility from here on out, Elita."

"Understood." She motioned for them to follow her. "The archives are this way."

Steelwing smiled and followed in the femme's tracks, doorwings hitched up at a pleased angle. Glory followed close behind, feeling heady with exhilaration. They'd come this far without any upsets… perhaps this would work out after all!

"This is too easy," Blitzwing whispered. "Way too easy. Watch yourself, kid."

She nodded, but his warning did little to dampen her spirits. Perhaps Primus was finally smiling upon the Decepticons, and their luck would hold until the archives. Perhaps they would even be so fortunate as to find a key to Vector Sigma within the repositories, and be able to secure the future of their race. She could only hope.

* * *

She should have known it wouldn't be so easy. Not because the guards or workers at the archives had given them much trouble – the guards seemed oblivious to their presence, and the archive drones and data clerks were only too willing to help them. Perhaps the fact that neither Blitzwing nor Glory wore their Decepticon sigils any longer assured the workers that they weren't a threat, or perhaps they were just so happy to find a mechanism interested in the archives that they were practically falling over themselves to make the visit pleasant for them.

The problem lay in the sheer size of the archives. The building was HUGE – massive enough to be considered its own small city. And while clerks and archivists were working around the clock to sift through the vast store of information, only a fraction of the archives had been catalogued and organized to any degree. That was understandable, given the expansive history of Cybertron and its inhabitants, but it made their job all the more frustrating.

Whatever process "Blinker" had to go through to get her old job as an archivist back, it was taking a while – either that or Kup wanted to make small talk with her and catch up on old times, or perhaps she had instigated a conversation to buy her comrades more time. It still wouldn't be enough time for them to do anything close to a complete search, though… but Glory was determined to at least try.

She did have the good fortune to run into a friendly and eager, if awkward and clumsy, computer tech who had been called in to fix a glitchy data terminal. Gizmo, a blue-and-orange carformer, wasn't as well-versed in the archives as the actual workers, but what he lacked in knowledge he made up for in enthusiasm.

"One of these days I hope to get transferred here on a permanent basis," he gushed, reaching up to rub at the center of his visor as he walked alongside the Seeker. "There's so much information here, it's like a hacker's paradise! Not that I'd want to hack into anything restricted, of course." He chuckled self-consciously. "Still, maybe they could use my help to decode encrypted data, or restore a corrupted file that turns out to be something important, like something about the Firstforged! That would be awesome!"

"I'll bet it would be," Glory replied. "But I'm not here for information on the Firstforged."

"Right, right, you were looking for the repository," he replied, bobbing his head like an eager turbohound puppy. "Last time I was here it was in the Alchemist Prime Wing of the archives. No telling if they've moved it, of course; they like moving things around on us…" He paused to let a drone laden down with datapads trundle by. "So what was it like among the neutrals? Blinker says you were there before coming here?"

She nodded. "Some of us finally got fed up with Galvatron's leadership and left. And to be honest… it's kind of boring. And I missed home."

"I can understand that – I think I'd go nuts if I had to leave Cybertron for some reason. This place is home, and we belong here. For us to have to go someplace else would be unthinkable. That's why I could never understand why some Autobots, like Tracks and Hound, wanted to stay behind on Earth – it might be nice and all, but it's not home."

His words were like a dagger to her spark, and she struggled to keep a straight face. He could talk so blithely about home, being an Autobot… and meanwhile her people were wasting away on Chaar, exiled from the planet that they had as much right to as the Autobots did. Perhaps more right, seeing as so much of their oil had been shed over the years defending the planet…

"Here we are!" Gizmo swept his arm in a grand gesture, indicating a section of the archives marked by a towering bronze statue of one of the Firstforged. "Alchemist Prime Wing, originally dedicated to information on Cybertron's laws and codes – so Ultra Magnus' favorite section." He snickered. "Right now it's a whole lotta mess, though – kind of a hodgepodge of everything. The repository should be somewhere in here, but if it's not you might find something telling you where it is now. They're usually nice about leaving notes when they move things around here."

"Thank you, Gizmo," Glory told him. "You've been wonderfully helpful."

"Oh no problem, no problem!" Gizmo gushed. "Anything to help a pretty femme. Uh, I mean… aw shucks…" He ducked his head, realizing what he'd just said, and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Thanks… you're cute." And she patted his helm before walking into the Alchemist Prime Wing, leaving poor Gizmo to sputter in happy amazement.

The shelves in this section of the archives were stuffed to bursting, and so disorganized she wondered how anyone could possibly find anything here. Gizmo hadn't been kidding – it looked as if anything new brought into the archives was simply dumped on the first available shelf, rather than sorted or organized in any sort of fashion. Wouldn't it make more sense to catalog and organize as one went along, rather than let it build up until it became a massive chore later?

 _How do the Autobots get anything done when they're this scattered?_ she wondered. _And then we wonder why huge chunks of our past get lost and forgotten, or why we can't learn from any of our mistakes – if this is the state of the entire archives, it's a wonder we know any of our past._

She hoped Blitzwing was having better luck, wherever he was. They'd split up upon coming to the archives, and the last time she'd seen him he was arguing with a drone over something or other. If the repository was no longer in this area, maybe Blitzwing would happen upon it first, if his little debate didn't stretch on for too long.

After what felt like hours of searching, she finally found something… but not what she had hoped. There was a large gap in the rows of shelves, dust marking an outline where something huge had once sat but obviously been moved recently. A few datapads and datachips lay on the floor in its place, most having fallen from nearby shelves but a couple looking like they'd been hurled across the room for some reason – perhaps by a clerk frustrated that he couldn't find what he was looking for.

Glory sighed, disappointment clouding her spark. So close, and yet so far at the same time. She felt like a crystal miner who had come so close to hitting the mother lode, only to find a few scraps and shards marking where another prospector had cleaned out the vein ahead of her.

But she didn't exactly have time to sulk about it. She had a job to do, and even if this was a setback she couldn't give up now. She stooped and gathered up the datapads on the floor, stacking them neatly in her arms. Maybe one of these would be the note Gizmo had referred to, and would direct her to the new location of the repository.

The first datapad looked to be a transcript of a speech Rodimus Prime had given shortly after Unicron's death – and from the eloquence of the wording, she guessed it had been written for him by another mech. The second was a blueprint for a building, and the third, minutes from some sort of meeting. The fourth was corrupted, and she found herself perversely hoping that it was something vital to the Autobots' cause. That would teach them to be careless with their records.

The fifth datapad seemed much like the third – a record of a meeting between the Prime and some of his advisors. But a single word in the text caught her attention, and made her forget about the repository completely – "sparklings."

Setting the other datapads aside, she quickly scrolled through the datapad. The date was particularly telling – just after Unicron's attack on Cybertron and the Decepticons' flight from the planet. And as she continued to scan the contents, she felt a strange mixture of excitement and dread building in her fuel tanks, like a gathered charge seeking an outlet.

" _Discussion regarding Decepticon sparklings acquired through recent prisoner exchange with Cyclonus. Elita-1's opinion that immediate placement of sparklings in permanent homes required. Objections by Ultra Magnus – conditioning of sparklings necessary to ensure they adjust to life among Autobots without placing themselves or caretakers in danger. Suggests temporary placement in facility for education and preparation for integration into Autobot society."_

A shudder went through her upon reading that. If Swindle hadn't campaigned for her release, this could very well have been her fate. She had escaped this "conditioning" by a wire's breadth.

" _Abandoned Decepticon medical center to be appropriated and remodeled into suitable facility for sparklings. Until building is ready, caretaker needed for sparklings. Kup suggests old associate of his, one Digger. Vote made, outcome unanimous. Plans made to contact Digger and assign responsibility of sparklings to her. No further business, meeting adjourned."_

Glory looked around to be sure no one was watching, then tucked the datapad into subspace. The archives were such a mess, she doubted anyone would miss this particular record. And at the moment, the Decepticons could use this information more than the Autobots. Even if they didn't find the key here, they at least had the location of the Decepticons' missing sparklings… if they hadn't been prematurely upgraded between then and now…

"Hey Miss Windblade, find what you were looking for?"

She whirled, one arm raised to fire before she realized that it was just Gizmo. The computer tech must have slipped in while she was busy. She was going to have to work on keeping her guard up, it seemed.

The hacker kept staring at her, visor bright and expression one of dawning comprehension. What was his problem? She glanced down at herself… and cursed virulently enough that her uncle probably would have been shocked had he been around to hear it. Sometime during her time in the archives, her color-shifting had timed out, returning her to her violet-and-silver color scheme.

"You're _her,_ " Gizmo gaped. "You're that femme Galvatron's after."

She froze, terror thrusting into her spark like a blazing dagger. Then she flung the stack of datapads in her hands at Gizmo's face. The Autobot reeled back, hands raised to protect his visor, and she charged past him and bolted down the aisles. She had to get out of here, before the tech could think to raise an alarm!

That was easier said than done – she'd managed to lose her bearings in this place and was hopelessly lost. She had just decided to grab a drone and demand the location of the exit when the alarms went off. Cursing again, she bolted. If she could just find a window…

"Halt!"

She didn't stop to see who had given that order – she turned and fired, not at the speaker, but at the shelf above his head. Datapads rained down on the guard's helm, distracting him and buying her a few precious seconds to make a break for it.

She was almost to the end of the aisle when two more guards moved to block her path, guns aimed at her. Frag it all to the Pit, could things never just go right for her for once?

Despite the guns pointed at her, she didn't stop – she didn't even break her stride. The guards' optics flared in surprise when they realized she was charging straight for them, and rather than shoot they flinched and moved to duck out of the way. She took advantage of their obvious reluctance to fire, taking a thruster-assisted leap over their heads and quickly soaring out of their reach.

 _Fraggit, kid, what in Primus' name are you doing?_ Blitzwing demanded over the comm.

 _Run!_ she shouted back, not bothering to explain. _Just run! I'll catch up!_

_I ain't leaving without you, kid! Steelwing'll have my neck!_

_Just go! We can't let them catch both of us!_

_Kid-_ began Blitzwing, but whatever else he had to say was drowned out by the crack of a laser blast, the beam of energy just barely missing the side of her helm. Snarling in frustration, she swooped out of the Alchemist Prime Wing and flew low, the wake of her passage scattering datapads and filmplast sheets behind her. Mechs yelped in surprise and dove to the floor, and drones darted beneath desks and behind shelves like retrorats fleeing before an electro-cat.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see a bulky violet mech bolting away, presumably for the exit. At least Blitzwing had finally listened. Now if she could just make it to a door or window…

Something slammed into her wing, sending pain streaking through her neural net. She jerked in midair, struggling to regain control, only to plow straight into a shelf with enough impact to punch clear through. She slammed into the next shelf, sending it and three others toppling, before hitting the floor.

"We got 'er!"

"Get her surrounded, we can't let her get away again!"

"How the slag did a fugitive get into the archives? Magnus is gonna kill us…"

For a pump-stopping moment Glory couldn't move – her systems were still badly jarred by the collision and didn't want to respond. When she finally managed to get her arms beneath her to push herself to her feet she found herself practically buried in datapads and pieces of shelving, which fell away with a resounding clatter as she stood. Once she was sure she wasn't damaged, just shaky and a bit dented, she rebooted her optics.

She wished she'd kept them offline. Autobots surrounded her – and not just guards from the archives. Evidently someone had called in law enforcement from outside, or they'd simply heard the ruckus and come to investigate. She counted at least a dozen weapons aimed in her direction, and the thunder of feet against the floor told her there were more Autobots on the way.

"Drop your guns!" barked a guard, optics narrowing. "Now!"

In response she merely raised her armguns, giving him as defiant a look as she could.

"Don't be stupid, femme," the guard ordered. "You're outnumbered and outgunned. Lower your weapons and the Prime just might be lenient with you."

"I'm a Decepticon," she retorted, doing her best to mask the sudden quiver of fear in her voice. "We don't surrender. We win… or die trying."

"Don't fake being a hero, femme," he replied. "Do you really want to be deactivated where you stand? Are you really that willing to join the Well?"

An affirmative answer was on the edge of her vocalizer… but it died before it could emerge. The thought of having her spark snuffed, of being cut down by Autobots, was too horrifying to contemplate. Even if surrender was considered unthinkable by most Decepticons, even if it meant possibly seeing her uncle again… she couldn't do it.

Hating herself for this, she disconnected her arm guns and dropped them to the floor.

"I didn't think so," the guard noted with a smirk. "Cuff her and get her to the detention block. Then inform the Prime we have a prisoner."


	19. Interrogation

"We've got to rescue her!"

"Primus, Blitz, cool your thrusters," Steelwing ordered. "They've had her for less than a cycle and you're already freaking out. And they're Autobots; enhanced interrogation isn't their style. She'll be fine for a while."

"For a while, yeah, but what about after? Autobots still do executions, you know…"

"Not without a trial. And she hasn't been fighting nearly long enough to be branded a war criminal. She'll be fine long enough for us to come up with something instead of rushing in with guns half-cocked."

The carformer and triple-changer sat in a booth in the far corner of one of the seedier oilbars in Iacon's entertainment district, doing their best to remain in the shadows and not look conspicuous. That wasn't too difficult in this establishment – an eclectic mixture of mechs and offworlders crowded the bar and occupied the tables, some laughing and chattering loudly, others slouched over their cups or cubes in intoxicated stupors. The bartender hadn't even given the odd pair of a pastel-colored fembot and a hulking warbuilt triple-changer a second look, just pointed them to a table and sent a serving drone after them to take their orders.

At least one thing had gone right on this mission, Blitzwing thought darkly. The rest had gone downhill faster than a de-winged Seeker. Not only had they failed to find the key, but Glory had gotten herself caught. And even worse, he found himself actually caring that a comrade had fallen into the hands of the enemy. Normally he would have been of the opinion that if a teammate was stupid enough to get captured, it was their problem… but this was different.

"Blitz, will you stop fidgeting?" Steelwing snapped. "You're driving me bonkers."

He realized he was rapping his fingers on the table, and he stilled them. "How can you be so blasted calm about this?"

"Because it's not as bad as you think," she replied. "We didn't find the key, but we at least have a good idea where the repository is. And yes, Glory's been caught, but the Autobots are soft-sparks. And given that Galvatron's put a price on her, they're more apt to grant her asylum among them."

"She won't take it," Blitzwing insisted. "She's stubborn."

"Like someone else I know," Steelwing muttered. "But the point is that things could be worse for her. So calm down and think straight, all right? You do her no good by freaking out."

Blitzwing blew out a sigh. "Fine. Got any ideas, genius?"

Steelwing looked into her cup, swirling the oil at the bottom idly. "Depends on where they've taken her. Most of the time Decepticon prisoners go straight to the correctional facility…"

"The what?"

"Fancy soft-sparked Autobot term for a prison. Anyhow, most of the time Autobots ship their prisoners directly there. But you said you overheard the 'Bots talking about their Prime as they hauled her out… so my guess is they're taking her straight to the Prime's base."

Blitzwing felt his spark clench at that. "Fraggit… we'll never get her out of there. It's too heavily guarded."

"Hey, 'Cons have broken into all sorts of high-security places. We can find a way in. If nothing else, I pull some strings with Blaster and Kup and try to get an audience with Prime, then find a way to break her out from inside."

"That's if they let you in," Blitzwing pointed out. "They'll know this 'Windblade' you brought to Cybertron ain't who she said she was. That's bound to raise suspicions."

"Can a naive Autobot femme really be responsible for a Decepticon pulling a fast one on her?" Steelwing asked, giving the triple-changer a look of bright-opticked innocence. "I'll find a way. Though I suppose there's another option."

"What option?"

"We lay low and wait for the kid to break herself out."

Blitzwing snorted. "Some plan. She's never had to plan her own jailbreak before."

"She found her way to Beta Geode, didn't she? Give her a little credit – she's smarter than you think. And she just might surprise us."

"You sound like Octane," he grumbled. "Him and his stupid rules. 'Rule one of courting a femme: if she gets captured and just sits back waiting for you to rescue her, dump her aft."'

"He's got a point," Steelwing smirked. "Would you really want the kid to just play 'damsel in distress' for you? Sometimes you gotta just trust that your teammate knows what he or she's doing."

He wanted to believe her. And he had to admit that Glory was pretty intelligent, especially compared to many of the femmes he'd known. But he couldn't just sit idly by while she languished in Autobot custody. He had to do something, even if it was something as stupid as rushing in with guns blazing to rescue her. That might land him in the cell next to hers or even get him deactivated, but fraggit, at least he'd be DOING something.

"All right, I'm off." She downed the rest of her oil and stood. "Tell Dipstick to put our drinks on my tab. I'll go see if I can't wrangle my way into Prime's base. If I can't make it in, we'll figure something else out."

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" he demanded.

"Lay low and don't do anything stupid," she replied, and walked off.

He groaned and stared into his own cube, hating this whole situation. So he was just supposed to sit here and rust instead of actually doing something to help? Wasn't going to happen. He wasn't about to hide like a scraplet while Glory was in danger. And once he was sure Steelwing was out of sight of the bar… he was going to take matters into his own hands.

 _Just hope the kid's all right until one of us gets to her,_ he thought, worry gnawing at his spark. _She's gotta be terrified…_

* * *

 _Pit, what's taking them so long?_ Glory thought irritably, leaning back in her chair. _Does it take that long to find an interrogator? Can't these Autobots do anything efficiently?_

Her wings twitched as she looked around the drab gray room, so plain and featureless that she was hard-pressed to even locate the door. When her captors had first dragged her in here and cuffed her to a chair, she had been practically shaking with terror. Now, though, she just found herself bored and antsy, and getting more restless by the minute. Had the Autobots forgotten her? Or was this their interrogation method, to keep their captive isolated until they'd gone so stir-crazy they'd give up everything just to have some kind of conversation?

She tugged slightly at her cuffs, testing their strength. Too strong – she wasn't going to be able to break out of here with brute force. She'd have to keep her optics open for some kind of opportunity. The Autobots were bound to slip up at some point and give her a shot at escape.

Not for the first time, she wondered if the others had made it out all right. She hoped she'd given Blitzwing enough warning to escape. Steelwing at least had her alternate identity to hide behind, unless this whole fiasco had managed to compromise it. Primus, she hoped not – the last thing she wanted was the others stuck in cells too…

The door opened abruptly, making her start in surprise.

"This is the Decepticon we found in the archives, Optimus Prime," she heard Magnus say.

Her spark flickered in shock. She had anticipated any number of things happening to her at the hands of the Autobots… but being questioned by the Prime himself wasn't one of them.

"The prisoner gave us the designation of Windblade, and claimed to be a neutral seeking to join the Autobots," Magnus went on, just a hint of smugness in his voice. "Our records show her to be a wanted fugitive named Glory, however. Galvatron has issued a bounty for her return to Chaar, though why is unknown."

Prime didn't answer the truckformer, only stepped into the room and leveled a studious gaze on the young Seeker. Glory tried to meet his gaze as confidently as she was able, though a tremor passed through her despite her best efforts to suppress it. The last time she had encountered the Autobot leader she had been a mere sparkling, prisoner to the Autobots and powerless to escape or fight them. He had towered over her then, radiating a fearsome aura of strength and authority, and she had feared that he could crush her with a single step.

 _Funny… he looks smaller than I remember._ She supposed the reason for that was obvious. But despite the fact that he was no longer four times her height, he still had that same powerful, commanding presence. And to her surprise, she found no malice or hatred in his gaze. Whatever his reason for wanting to meet with her, it wasn't to hurt her.

"Thank you, Ultra Magnus," Prime said at last. "You're dismissed."

Magnus frowned. "Sir, shouldn't someone be in here to guard you? What if the Decepticon breaks free and attacks you?"

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, Magnus," Prime replied, sounding more amused than annoyed at Magnus' overprotectiveness. "Besides, I won't keep you from your other tasks. I know you're busy."

Magnus didn't look happy at being shuffled off like this, but he finally snorted and turned to go, shutting the door behind him.

Prime moved to sit down across from her, folding his hands on the table that separated them. He looked as calm as if he were simply sitting down to a meeting with his officers. In contrast, Glory felt every joint in her body tense, fear and resentment burning in her spark. Fear that she was so close to the enemy – and the leader of the enemy, no less – but also resentment at just what Prime represented to her – the death of her family.

"You've grown up since we last met, Glory," Prime noted.

She rebooted her optics at that. "You remember me?"

"How could I forget?" His mask hid most of his face, but she swore she could hear a smile in his voice. "Your arrival is something no one among the Ark crew would soon forget. I've always wondered whatever happened to the sparkling who lived among us for a few days."

She flinched at that. "A lot happened to her. Too much."

Prime nodded, as if that were all the answer he needed. "I understand things have been… difficult… for the Decepticons since the war came to an end."

She gave a stiff nod, though she felt "difficult" was something of an understatement. "Miserable and downright impossible" was more like it in her CPU…

"You could have simply appealed to me for asylum, you know," he went on. "Many Decepticons have requested that, usually because Galvatron has banished them and put prices on their heads. We would have done the same for you. In fact, I extend that offer to you now. We can guarantee you sanctuary here on Cybertron, so long as you agree to our terms."

She stared at him in disbelief. Did he honestly have the gears to suggest that? The resentment in her spark flared into full-fledged anger, and without warning it burst forth as a snarl.

"How could you?" she demanded. "How could you just assume that I'd want to join you? After everything you and your kind have done to me? Your Autobots killed my parents!"

Prime raised an optic ridge. "Piston and Windblade were scientists developing war technology for Shockwave. They were hardly innocent-"

"They were my PARENTS!" she shouted, clenching her fists. "They were my parents, and I had to watch them get crushed by rubble! I had nightmares about that for months!"

"Glory-"

"Don't you 'Glory' me, Optimus Prime!" Cleanser was building up rapidly in her optics, fogging her vision, but she didn't stop. "You killed my family! Maybe you didn't pull the trigger or give the order to bomb the factories, but your Autobots did it in your name! And I watched my friends come back from battle time and again, hurt and in pain, even close to dying… because of your Autobots. Because of YOU! And as if that weren't enough… you killed my uncle!"

Prime shuttered his optics, as if trying to block out her tirade, but he didn't say anything.

"And you can't even claim that was the work of your own troops! You shot him down yourself! He was the last of my family and you took him from me! And then… then you have the bolts to assume I'd want to accept asylum from you? To join your side?" Her voice lowered to an angry hiss. _"I'd rather die."_

By this point her optics overflowed with cleanser, to the point where everything was a messy blur. She lowered her head and struggled to get a grip, but the anger had been like a knife reopening an old wound, bringing back the grief she thought she'd put behind her. Thundercracker… she missed him so much… and here she was in the company of the mech who'd murdered him in cold oil… a mech who somehow had returned to life while her beloved uncle remained in the Well… it was almost too much to bear.

Prime was silent for a long while, long enough that Glory finally raised her head to look at him. She expected to find anger in his optics at being addressed like this… but he seemed sad. Almost as if he, too, grieved at Thundercracker's death.

"You're right," he said at long last, voice soft. "I am responsible for your uncle's death. I've long told myself that every life I took in battle was necessary, that there's no time for mercy on the field of war. But that doesn't absolve me of his… his murder, I suppose." He looked away briefly. "And I shot him down knowing full well that he had a sparkling still in his care, which only compounds the crime. I'm so sorry, Glory. I truly am."

She forced back a sob. "That's supposed to make it better? That you're sorry?"

Prime shook his head. "It doesn't make it better, and I doubt anything that is in my power to do can. But I do not take Thundercracker's death lightly, or any other mech's death in this war." He gave a soft sigh. "I have long tried to do what I feel is best for the Autobots throughout the course of this war, just as I'm sure Megatron has tried to do what he felt was best for the Decepticons. Our methods differed greatly, as you might imagine, but our general goal was the same – to make Cybertron a better place for us."

She wanted to make some snide remark about how making Cybertron a better place for the Autobots just made it all the worse for her people. But she kept silent.

"Believe me, if either Megatron or Galvatron had come to me wanting to come to some sort of ceasefire, to make a truce between our kinds, I would have accepted without hesitation. But I suppose it's too late for that. The war has gone on for far too long, and I doubt any of the Decepticons are willing to make such a deal."

"Not like the Autobots would be either," Glory retorted. "They've started just as many fights as we have, and they haven't exactly been noble and virtuous throughout the war. You've killed non-combatants without a second thought, destroyed our cities and built your own over them, and even captured our sparklings to recruit them to your side. Don't act as if your people are innocent victims in all this."

Prime seemed to ponder whether it was worth arguing that point, but didn't press it. "I know you've been hurt, Glory. And I know you're still angry with the Autobots for your family's deaths. But the offer for sanctuary among our kind still stands. Perhaps with time, we can find a way to make amends for what happened. And perhaps you'll finally begin to heal."

She shook her head. "Not interested."

"You do realize that if you turn this down, you'll be treated as a prisoner," Prime pointed out. "We simply can't have one of the enemy wandering free among us, no more than your kind would allow an Autobot to roam free on Chaar."

"I understand… but I'm still not interested." She set her jaw firmly. "I'd rather try to make things better for the Decepticons than go into hiding among the Autobots."

He didn't seem all that surprised by her refusal. "Very well… I see how it is. I understand your decision, even if I don't agree with it." He pushed his chair back and stood. "Unfortunately, this does mean you will be transferred to our correctional facility. But if you change your mind, let Ultra Magnus or one of the guards know."

She doubted that was going to happen, but she said nothing.

Prime's optic ridges drew together in a frown, as if he were re-processing their conversation and had found something he didn't like. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, the door sealing shut behind him.

Glory leaned back in her chair, finally letting herself cry. She almost wished Prime really had interrogated her – it would have been less painful than the reminder of everything she had lost.

* * *

Ultra Magnus was waiting for Prime just outside the interrogation room, and he visibly relaxed when the Autobot commander stepped out, looking disappointed but none the worse for the wear. He fell into step beside his superior as they made their way out of the detention level of the base.

"I take it she turned down your offer for asylum," Magnus noted.

"Observant as always," Prime remarked dryly. "Send a few troops to transport her to the detention facility for now. I dislike keeping her prisoner when she's done very little to deserve it besides wear the Decepticon symbol, but at the same time it's too risky to let her go free."

"Wearing the Decepticon symbol is enough," Magnus pointed out. "Young or not, she's a danger. My advice would be to question her regarding the status of the Chaar base and any other outposts. If we're going to be planning a strike in the near future, she'd be our best source of information on what kind of numbers and weaponry they have."

Prime sighed. "Is a strike really necessary, Magnus? We've been operating under a truce…"

"A truce they broke within a quartex," Magnus pointed out. "They attacked our Olympus Mons base, and who knows what else they have planned. The best way to protect ourselves is to wipe out the Decepticon menace once and for all, before Galvatron gets it into his CPU to attack Cybertron itself."

Prime flinched slightly at Magnus' words. Had the Autobots really grown so cold-sparked in the time he had been gone, ready to stoop to the Decepticons' own level in the name of peace? Or had this been far longer in the making? Certainly many of the Autobot commanders had said similar things during the war…

Speaking of stooping to levels… something Glory had said still bothered him. "Magnus… the femme spoke of the Autobots having Decepticon sparklings in their custody. She was exaggerating, wasn't she?"

Magnus shook his head. "Right after Unicron's attack on Cybertron we rescued a number of Decepticon sparklings from the rubble of Shockwave's academy. Cyclonus let us maintain custody of them in return for releasing several of his soldiers we'd captured."

"I see." He tried to suppress the sudden sick feeling in his fuel tanks. "Has any effort been made to return them to their creators?"

Magnus snorted. "You're joking, right? All their caretakers were deactivated in the destruction. And we aren't about to give the Decepticons more children to turn into warriors for their cause. We set up a temporary academy in Iacon, where they're being educated and rehabilitated until they can be placed with Autobot caretakers."

That only made Prime feel even more ill. "And you condoned this?"

The other truckformer scowled. "Don't start this, Prime. We're doing those sparklings a favor. Would you rather we gave them back to the Decepticons, and watched them get turned into cannon fodder for Galvatron's own sick gain? At least with Autobot parents, they'll be safe."

"At what cost?" Prime replied, voice hard. "Turning them against everything they've ever known? I would expect such CPU-washing of a child from Shockwave or Megatron, but NOT from my own troops… and certainly not from one of my own officers."

"We did what we felt was best for everyone involved," Magnus snapped. "And at any rate, it's too late to change it. If Galvatron hasn't contacted us by now demanding we return them, then it's safe to assume he doesn't want them back. And they're just about ready to be placed with new parents anyhow…"

Before Prime could argue further, alarms went off throughout the base. Both truckformers froze, and Magnus was just about to bolt back to the interrogation room when Kup's voice sounded over the comm.

_We got a rogue mech attackin' the base! Some kinda tankformer from the look of it, mech must be off his rocker attackin' solo like this… Primus fraggit, it's Blitzwing! So much for him wantin' to join our side!_

"I'll handle this," said Prime. "Magnus, get the femme transferred to the correctional facility. I'll lead a squad out to drive off Blitzwing."

"Yes sir." Magnus nodded sharply and headed back for the interrogation room.

Prime transformed and sped down the halls as quickly as he could, radioing for Jazz, Springer, and Silverbolt to serve as backup. He had a feeling he was going to be fighting a massive CPU-ache by the time all this was over.

* * *

Glory half-expected Optimus Prime to come back in when the door to her cell opened, and didn't know whether to be relieved or dismayed when Ultra Magnus entered instead. The truckformer wasn't alone – two scarlet mechs flanked him as if serving as bodyguards. She recognized Sideswipe, but the other… wasn't that Rodimus Prime? No, he wasn't a Prime anymore… what had his name been before he'd taken up the Matrix?

"Get her cuffed and to the transport," Magnus ordered sharply. "And don't be rough with this one either. We're not in the habit of abusing our prisoners, and I'd rather nobody picked up that habit now."

"What if she puts up a fight?" asked Sideswipe, giving her a suspicious look.

"Then you're free to do whatever you need to subdue her. Within reason."

Glory tensed at that. Autobots had a reputation for going lightly on the prisoners in their care, but she didn't like the sound of that command. Would these mechs hurt her given the chance? She'd never fought the infamous twins before, but she'd heard stories about them… and Sideswipe had nearly killed her uncle at one point. True, he'd been kind to her the first time she'd been an Autobot captive, but she wasn't exactly a sparkling anymore… just another Decepticon.

"Does it really take three of us to get one dumb Seeker to the prison?" demanded Sideswipe, giving Magnus a grumpy look. "I should be out there with Sunny, stompin' Blitzwing's aft, not babysitting a captive."

"Prime is taking care of our little triple-changer problem," Magnus replied. "You have your orders, and I expect you to follow them."

She tensed again, though this time a flash of hope jolted through her. Blitzwing had escaped! She just hoped he would be all right… few mechs could go toe-to-toe with Optimus Prime and emerge unscathed. If she could just find her way out of here and go help him…

"All right, Miss, come with us," the mech-formerly-known-as-Rodimus told her, going to undo her cuffs and free her from the chair. "We'll make this nice and easy for you if you just behave, all right?"

Sideswipe rolled his optics. "For the love of Primus, Hot Rod, you're escorting her to a cell, not taking her out on a date."

"Hey, I was raised to be polite to femmes," Hot Rod retorted. "Unlike some idiots I could mention."

"Hey!"

"Knock it off, you two, we don't have time for this," Magnus snapped. "Get her to the prison and then maybe you'll have time to help hunt down Blitzwing. I knew letting him roam free on this planet was trouble…"

Hot Rod deactivated the energy cuffs, then firmly grasped her right arm. "I'll help you up, ma'am… easy does it, I know you've been sitting awhile."

It was tempting to be difficult with the young mech, to insist she didn't need help or even struggle against his grip. The fact that he insisted on treating her like one of those fragile fembots didn't exactly help matters. But she only smiled up at him and accepted his aid in getting to her feet. If he was going to insist on being polite and chivalrous with her, she'd accept it for now. In fact, maybe it could be played against him…

She deliberately set a foot down wrong as she got to her feet, stumbling forward. Had the mech holding her been a fellow Seeker he might have been able to keep her upright, but Hot Rod was small and light enough that he was dragged down with her as she fell to her knees.

"Ow!" She winced, trying to look and sound genuinely pained.

"Hey, are you all right, Miss?" Hot Rod asked, giving her a concerned look.

She shook her head. "Got an overextended cable in my leg… probably from the crash in the archives."

"Oh ouch, that's not good," Hot Rod fretted. "Magnus, maybe we should wait until a medic can see her?"

"Dude, she's a fraggin' Con," Sideswipe pointed out. "They fight through worse than stretched cables all the time. Stop coddling her."

"Get her on her feet," Magnus ordered. "We'll take it slow to the correctional facility. A medic can look at her there, once she's in a controlled environment."

Hot Rod sighed unhappily and tugged at her arm. "Okay, Sides, help me here."

Sideswipe grabbed her left arm. "On three, then. One…"

He never got to two. Once Sideswipe's grip on her arm was sure, Glory extended her arm blades. Sideswipe and Hot Rod released her with shrieks of shocked pain, Hot Rod clutching his wounded hand and Sideswipe falling back against the table with a stunned expression. She only smiled grimly and leaped to her feet, assuming a defensive stance. The two bots had had the rotten luck of grabbing her arms right where her arm blades came out.

"What the Pit?" demanded Sideswipe, optics flashing as he drew a knife out of subspace. "Seekers aren't supposed to have melee weapons!"

Ah… that explained why no one had thought to remove or deactivate her arm blades. Well, their oversight was her gain.

Ultra Magnus didn't waste time on words – he surged forward, arms raised to grab the Seeker and subdue her. She ducked low, twisting beneath his arms and raising her own arm to bury the blade in his abdomen. From the lack of resistance as it passed through his armor and into his chassis she must have missed any vital components, but the blow was still enough for Magnus to double over, faceplate contorted in pain.

Fire erupted in her wing, and she yelped and jerked her arm free of Magnus' chassis, swinging it around to take a swipe at her attacker. Sideswipe leaped back to avoid her arm blade, yanking his own knife free of her wing in the process. Hot Rod, meanwhile, had raised his gun to fire, but was unable to maintain a grip on it with his injured hand.

Glory decided she wasn't going to get a better shot at this, and she bolted for the door. Sideswipe moved to put himself between her and the exit, knife raised and a deadly calm infusing his expression as if he were certain he couldn't lose this match. She raised one arm to catch the blade on her own as it came down, but when she tried to slam her other blade into his chest he caught her arm in his free hand, staying the blow.

For a few seconds the two of them struggled, Glory trying to wrench herself free and Sideswipe gradually forcing his own blade closer. Primus, he was strong for a carformer… and the whole time they grappled she feared that Magnus would recover and attack, or Hot Rod would finally manage to get a grip on his gun and squeeze off a shot. Was the Lamborghini counting on this and stalling for time? Or did he truly intend to subdue or offline her here and now?

Sideswipe leaned in close, a deadly smirk on his face. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Seeker. Give it up or it gets messy."

"Damn right it gets messy," she replied… and she reared back and slammed her head forward, her helm impacting against the bridge of his olfactory sensor.

 _So it's true that you see stars,_ she thought dazedly as agony gripped her helm like a vise. She staggered a moment, shaking her head to regain her senses. Once her vision cleared she looked back to the door, and her spark leaped to find the way clear. Sideswipe, meanwhile, was slumped in a heap on the floor, energon pouring from his facial vents, optics flickering, and generally looking on the verge of going offline at any moment.

She didn't waste time gloating over her brief victory – she bolted for the door, running for all she was worth. Next time she saw the Stunticons, she owed them a huge thank you for their lessons over the years. Her uncle wouldn't have been too happy that they'd not only taught her hand-to-hand combat, but also how to fight dirty… but then, it seemed like it took fighting dirty to get ahead.

Frantically she tried to recall the path she had taken to the interrogation room. She had to get out of here before Magnus or any of the others recovered enough to sound an alarm. Her one advantage was that Blitzwing's attack would distract a lot of the Autobots from the escapee in their midst.

She rounded a corner, only to nearly collide with a garishly colored Autobot. Without thinking she drew an arm blade back, aiming to take off a limb or two…

"Primus dammit, kid, put it down! It's me!"

"Steelwing!" she gasped, lowering her arms. "I mean… Blinker…"

Steelwing shook her head, a look of relief suffusing her features. "Just Steelwing. Not gonna be able to use the Blinker persona after this whole mess, thank Primus. But seeing you safe makes it worth it." She grabbed Glory's hand and led her down the halls at a dead run. "C'mon… Blitzwing's going against orders and doing something stupid, but that at least gives us time to get the slag outta here."

"Steelwing, I didn't find the key," Glory said between vents of air as they charged down the halls for the exit. "But I found something better."

"What, the Sword of Vector Prime?" demanded Steelwing. "This mission's compromised, kid. We're gonna be lucky to get off Cybertron with our parts intact. Just gotta hope Stormrunner's team had more luck…"

"I found Decepticon sparklings!" Glory cut in.

Steelwing nearly stopped running entirely to stare at her, but somehow managed to keep moving. "Primus below… here I thought they were all dead or reprogrammed into Autobots. Where are they?"

"I don't know exactly… but they're in the care of someone named Digger, somewhere in Iacon. We have to find them!"

"One thing at a time, Glory. Let's focus on getting out of-"

Her sentence cut off, and the two femmes skidded to a halt. They'd just reached the exit… and the scarlet-and-blue bulk of Optimus Prime blocked the path. The Autobot leader carried a gun almost big enough to be called a cannon, and char marks smudged his armor here and there. Just past him they could see the city streets, and a patch of clear sky that marked their escape… but with the Prime in the way their escape route might as well have been sealed off by blast doors.

Glory took a step back, trying to gain enough room to maneuver, and raised her arm blades. Maybe their escape ended here… but she wasn't going to go down without a fight. Beside her she could hear the hum of Steelwing's shoulder cannons powering up, and she guessed her companion must be thinking the same thing.

Prime kept his gaze on the two femmes for a moment, seeming to ponder what to do next. Then, to Glory's shock, he stepped to the side.

"The temporary academy can be found just one block east of Platinum Square," he told them. "There's a mix of Autobot and Decepticon sparklings there, but I trust you'll know the differences between them. Now go."

Glory stared at Prime, still struggling to process what was going on. Was he just letting them go? And giving them vital information to boot?

"Why are you doing this?" demanded Steelwing. "This isn't free info you're giving us – you're gonna want something in return."

"Because I do not agree with all the decisions Rodimus Prime and Ultra Magnus made in my absence," he replied. "And I have never approved of making innocent sparklings suffer for this war we have forced on them. I fought to keep Glory from being made into an Autobot against her will when she was young… and if she hurries, she might be able to save others from a similar fate. I only ask that you leave the Autobot sparklings alone – and if I hear you've put a scratch on any of them, or abducted them for your own purposes, I WILL come after you."

Glory hesitated, then gave a sharp nod in response. Perhaps Prime was a more decent mech than she had given him credit for… and while she wasn't about to forgive him for what he'd done to her, he was certainly making it fragged hard for her to hate him.

Steelwing bolted past Prime and out the door, Glory close behind. Only when they were out of the Autobot commander's sight did the carformer finally relax.

"Thought it was a trap," she muttered. "Still can't believe that just happened."

"Neither can I," Glory admitted. "But we got lucky." She turned back to the base, flinching as the sounds of battle continued. How could one mech raise so much chaos? Then again, Blitzwing had always been a master of causing havoc…

 _Yo Blitz, the kid's out!_ Steelwing shouted over the radio. _Get your aft outta there and rendezvous with us at Platinum Square!_

 _Glory!_ Blitzwing's voice was shaky with relief… and something else Glory had never heard before. _Are you all right? They didn't rough you up, did they?_

_I'm fine, Blitzwing… I promise I'm fine. What about you?_

_Little dinged up, but nothing Steelwing can't fix up when we get outta here. Primus, kid… you scared me._

Her spark tightened at the concern in his voice. She'd never heard him worry about anyone before, not even Astrotrain…

 _Okay, lovebirds, you can get all mushy on me later,_ Steelwing ordered. _We've got a job to do._

 _Who says we're lovebirds?_ Blitzwing protested, immediately defensive. _Just because I didn't want the kid interrogated…_

_Our objective's changed, Blitz. This is no longer about the key – it's a rescue mission. And we've got sparklings to liberate and take back to Beta Geode. Let's go._


	20. Confession

Digger's "academy" was a relatively simple affair, a plain building nestled between a couple of warehouses several blocks from Iacon's main street. There was no sign out front advertising its purpose – indeed, not a trace of evidence that this building housed a collection of Cybertronian sparklings. From the street, it looked more like an office building than any kind of school or sparkling care center.

 _Perhaps that's the entire point,_ thought Glory, looking down from her perch atop one of the neighboring warehouses. If the Autobots knew Decepticons were in their midst, even if they were all children, it would probably stir up a panic, not to mention considerable controversy. By making the academy as nondescript as possible, Digger and whoever else she worked with ensured that their operation would attract very little attention, at least until the sparklings in their care were ready to be upgraded or placed with an adult caretaker.

From her position, however, she could see what someone passing by on the street couldn't – a walled yard behind the building, where roughly two dozen sparklings were playing and running around under the watchful optic of a bulky brown-and-green Autobot. Said walls were high enough that the only possible way to know what was on the other side was to climb up onto the roof of a nearby building, helping to disguise the academy even further. Why the sounds of sparklings at play didn't tip anyone off was anyone's guess… but then, this was a warehouse district and didn't see much in the way of curious passersby. Probably another deliberate choice to keep the sparklings hidden from prying eyes, she thought.

"Pit, you never said there were this many," Blitzwing remarked from his position on Glory's right. "How're we supposed to get 'em all back to base?"

"We'll have to hijack a shuttle on our way out," Steelwing replied, her doorwings twitching as she studied the yard below. "Be the best way. Though not all of those are 'Con kids, so I don't know why you have your cables in such a twist."

"How can you even tell which is which?" demanded Blitzwing. "All sparklings look the same to me."

"There's some subtle differences," Steelwing pointed out. "Optic color, for one thing. And Decepticon sparklings often come with some kind of built-in defense system, though maybe the Autobots disabled them in these ones. That and they tend to have thicker armor than Autobot or neutral sparklings."

"Huh." Blitzwing mulled that over a bit. "They still look the same from here. Maybe it's a femme thing, being able to tell the difference from this distance."

Glory just let the two talk, keeping her optics on the yard and its occupants. Breaking the sparklings out of here wasn't going to be a walk in the park. The building itself looked pretty secure, and at every corner of the walled yard she could make out an anti-aircraft weapons turret. The Autobots weren't taking any chances, it seemed, and wanted this building fully secure against any Decepticons that might come to take their sparklings back. There were no guards that she could see... but that didn't mean they weren't inside the building, patrolling the halls and keeping both intruders out and any potential escapees in.

Her gaze kept drifting to the Autobot caretaker, who was crouched down at the moment to comfort a sparkling who had just taken a spill and was fussing about it. Funny… she was so used to Autobot femmes being delicate-looking dolls that she had fully expected Digger to look the same. But the caretaker looked far more mech-like than even some mechs she'd known, with a thickly armored frame, a slitted mask obscuring her mouth and olfactory sensor, and the blade of her bulldozer alt mode fixed to her shoulders and looming over her head almost like the hood of a cloak. She wasn't sure whether to feel some satisfaction at seeing an atypical femme, or dismay that said femme looked like she could take apart any of them in a fight.

Then she took a look at the sparklings themselves… and what she saw disturbed her. The Autobots and neutrals seemed to mingle well enough, playing games together and sharing gossip and laughter. But a small group of sparklings stayed huddled off to one side, playing quietly, mostly ignored by the others except if a ball or other toy happened to fall too close to their group. It didn't exactly surprise Glory that all these "outcasts" had the red optics and more heavily armored chassis typical of Decepticon sparklings, but it still saddened her.

 _We've got to get them out of there,_ she vowed. _They're still being treated badly, even if the Autobots are so sure they're doing the right thing in keeping them here. They can't stay here any longer._

"How do we get in?" she wondered aloud. "We can't go in from above, and it looks too secure for us to take from the ground. If we had more troops, maybe… what if we called Stormrunner's team?"

Steelwing shook her head. "I hate to interrupt their mission if they're having any luck at all in finding a key. Besides, we may not have numbers, but we have CPUs. We can wrangle our way in if we just be smart about it."

"Maybe Blinker could finagle her way in?" asked Blitzwing, smirking just a little. "Autobots are slaggin' trusting of their own kind – you could waltz in, disable the guns, and give us an opening."

Steelwing snorted. "Blinker's an archivist-in-training. What reason would she have to be around sparklings? Besides, I'm sure word's gotten around by now that I was seen in the company of Decepticons. Won't be safe to use that persona again."

"What about your other personas?" asked Glory. "I thought you had more than one."

She pondered that, optics darkening as she focused. "Hmm… Quicksilver's primarily a message courier. It's possible I could get in that way. But I don't have my paints with me – pretty much assumed Blinker would be all I needed." She grimaced.

"What color's Quicksilver?" asked Blitzwing. "Maybe we can get ahold of something."

"Silver, duh," Steelwing retorted. "Silver and black with some blue highlights. But where are three 'Cons going to get ahold of paint supplies when half of Iacon's out looking for them?"

Glory sighed softly. So much for that idea.

"Could always just go in from above," Blitzwing pointed out. "One of us could draw the anti-aircraft fire while the others go in and swipe the sparklings."

"You volunteering yourself, Blitz?" asked Steelwing, arching an optic ridge.

"No!" Glory said quickly. "Blitzwing, don't hurt yourself. We'll find another way."

"What other way?" Blitzwing demanded. "We ain't got a lot of other options. And before you ask, no, I ain't letting you go out there to be target practice."

"Why not? I'm fast and maneuverable, they'll have a harder time hitting me…"

"I don't want you hurt!" He seemed about to say more, but then caught himself. "I mean… that came out wrong…"

"This is touching, you two, but we've got a job to do here," Steelwing cut in irritably. "We can bicker about who goes down there all day, but someone's gotta go down and distract the folks in charge. Someone just go already."

Blitzwing nodded and pushed himself up to his knees, preparing to stand. Glory wanted to stop him, but didn't know what to say to get him to change his mind. Triple-changer or not, he'd get himself killed if he went down there – and the thought of anything happening to him, of yet another mech she cared about coming to harm, was enough to make her spark ache…

Then something caught her attention. "Blitz, stop!"

Steelwing groaned. "Slaggit, kid, what did I say?"

"Look at him!" Glory pointed to Blitzwing's chest and abdominal plates. The triple-changer had been lying flat on the roof of the warehouse, and a thick layer of grease and dust smeared his armor, totally obscuring his normal violet paint job in several places.

"I'm dirty, so what?" Blitzwing snapped. "Gone into battle a little dingy plenty of times. Let's get this over with already!"

"Wait, Blitz," Steelwing noted, and a sly smile crossed her lip plates. "The kid's on to something here."

"What?" He glanced down at himself. "Someone clue me in already."

"We may have a handy disguise here after all," Steelwing replied, raising her own hand to reveal a similar coating of grunge and grease coloring her palm. "The fact that Autobots are too slagging trusting of their own kind doesn't hurt things either. We can get this done without anyone getting shot at. Now get down, Blitz, before someone sees you."

Blitzwing crouched down, but not without a bit of a snort. "Don't like this idea already. Too many things can go wrong."

"Not as wrong as getting shot down in Autobot territory," Glory pointed out. "Come give us a hand here…"

* * *

Digger had just broken up a tussle between two of the sparklings and was about to send them back off to play when a radio ping interrupted her.

_Ma'am, there's a message courier here for you._

_Take the message and put it on my desk,_ she replied. _I'll look at it while the kids are refueling this evening._

_Sorry, ma'am, but she says it's sensitive information. She can only give it to you._

Digger sighed. _All right, I'll be right there. Won't be a breem. Send Glacier out to watch the sparklings, all right? Might as well get some use out of the big lug if Magnus is going to saddle me with him._

_Copy._

She cut off the comm line and patted the two young sparklings' shoulders. "Behave yourselves, Fourwheels, Lancer. And be good for Glacier. No throwing rocks at him to see if he feels it through his armor this time."

"I only did that once," Fourwheels insisted.

"Once was once too many," she replied. "If I hear about it again you'll stay inside next recess."

Fourwheels pouted but nodded.

"Off with you then," she urged. "And no fighting!"

Fourwheels nodded again and bolted for the climbing structure in the center of the yard. Lancer moved off at a more sedate pace, going to join the cluster of sparklings that normally gathered in the corner of the yard to play their own private games. Digger sighed again before turning to go, stepping to the side to let Glacier, a white-armored submarine-former, into the yard. Primus knew she tried to keep the fighting to a minimum among the sparklings, but there would always be those few who thought they had to prove their superiority by picking on the smaller or weaker ones.

And though Magnus would probably insist otherwise, it was almost never the Decepticon sparklings that instigated the fights. More often than not it was the neutral sparklings who started things, though a few of the Autobot sparklings joined in from time to time. Fourwheels was probably the worst offender – he wouldn't go out of his way to hassle the other sparklings, but if anyone smaller than him crossed his path he wasn't above teasing them until they lashed out in anger. Digger did her best to train that out of him, but he was resisting her attempts to reform him.

She'd keep working at him, however. No sparkling was beyond teaching, and even Fourwheels would come around if she was just persistent with him. She liked the kid – then again, she liked all the kids, even the neutral and Decepticon kids. But just because she had a soft spot for them didn't mean she'd let them get away with slag, and she took her job as their mentor and rehabilitator seriously.

 _At least the Decepticons have gentled somewhat since they got here,_ she thought. _They were so skittery when they first got here, so afraid of anything that wore an Autobot symbol. They still don't mix with the other sparklings, but at least they've grown to trust me. The guards are another story, but if Magnus would just stop changing the guards here so often they'd grow accustomed…_

Her train of thought slid to a halt as she reached the door… and saw the very filthy Autobot standing there. A Praxian femme with a purple chevron, she was so covered in grease and dirt that apart from the chevron, she couldn't even make out what her original colors had been. She didn't even appear to notice her grimy state, however, and simply leaned against the doorway, a package tucked under one arm and a bored-looking expression on her faceplate.

"You're Digger?" the courier asked.

"Guilty," Digger replied. "What happened to you? You look like you got pushed into an oil refinery."

"Har har," the courier mock-laughed. "Some joker suggested I take the shortcut through Vos to get here. Never again."

"Ouch," Digger winced. "You're lucky you just came out of there dirty. There's talk of scavengers and packs of rogue Decepticons living there." She extended her hand for the package. "What's so sensitive it couldn't just be left on my desk?"

"Beats me," the courier replied, holding the package out. "I was just told it goes to you and no one else."

"It had better not be more paperwork." She reached out to take the package. "I swear, I spend more of my time here filling out forms than actually taking care of the spar-"

The courier's free hand came up at that moment, ramming something into the cables of Digger's neck. Before she could react energy jolted through her body, scrambling her vision and causing every system in her chassis to go haywire. She was offline and crumpling to the floor before she could even gather her wits enough to wonder what the slag was going on.

Steelwing quickly subspaced the shock prod, then crouched down beside the femme. She despised what she was about to do next, but sometimes duty called for doing something distasteful…

"Somebody help me!" she screamed. "She just passed out! Help!"

That did the trick – two guards came running at her call, and one knelt down to check Digger's vital signs while the other stood watch. Steelwing did her best to keep an expression of worried panic on her faceplate, though it disgusted her to do so. Best to let these mechs think she was a brainless femmebot for the moment, and throw off any suspicion.

"She's all right, just unconscious," the first guard noted. "Smokescreen, go comm for a medic."

"Yes sir." The second guard, another Praxian, saluted and hurried off.

"You," the first guard went on, jabbing a finger at her, "there's a repair kit in Digger's office, just down the hall and to the right. Go get it, quickly!"

"O-okay," she replied, keeping her voice weak and shaky, and darted off.

Once she was out of the guard's sight, Steelwing veered into a hallway that led deeper into the academy. Somewhere around here there should be a control room, where she could slip in and shut down the anti-aircraft guns outside. Digger would recover from her blow soon enough, and Steelwing wanted to be done with what she came to do and out of this place before that happened.

* * *

It seemed an eternity later when the call came over the radio, so sudden that Glory nearly jumped straight up into the air when Steelwing spoke.

_They're down. Move in, quick!_

Blitzwing didn't hesitate – he rose to his feet and took a running leap off the roof of the warehouse, transforming in midair to his jet mode and diving for the yard. Glory stared after him a moment, transfixed. She'd never thought the triple-changer could be that graceful in the air, but it seemed he was full of surprises…

She shook her head and leaped off after him. No time to gawk. They had a mission to fulfill.

A chorus of screams rang out as both Decepticons touched down, Blitzwing shifting to robot mode as he did so. The sparklings scattered to the edges of the yard, some huddling together in groups as if for protection, others running to hide behind the white-armored Autobot who had been left to guard them. In the far corner of the yard, a group of scarlet-opticked sparklings stared at Glory and Blitzwing, nervous but their optics shining with awe… and maybe hope as well.

Glory flashed them a comforting smile before turning to the guard, who just stared at them dumbfoundedly. He shook his head as if to clear it, then drew his gun.

"Dunno how you got past the guns," he snarled, "but that don't matter. Get out before I blow you to scrap."

Blitzwing snickered. "Aw, you'd really do that, Auto-chump? Traumatize the kids by killing a coupla mechs in front of them? Here I thought your kind were decent."

The mech curled his lip in disgust. "Don't talk to me about decency, 'Con! You're the one here to abduct innocent sparklings!"

"Who said anything about an abduction?" Glory asked, releasing her arm blades. "We're just here to take back what's ours."

It took the guard a moment to process that phrase, but when it finally clicked in his CPU his optics narrowed. "Oh no you don't, Decepti-creeps! We got those kids away from your kind to save them, and we're not about to let you corrupt them all over again!"

"You got a funny way of saving them, looks like," Blitzwing pointed out as he stepped forward, shoulders back and wings raised, giving his most intimidating show to the guard. "You're outnumbered, pal, so just toss me the gun and give it up. Unless you want to start a fight, and won't that be somethin' to report to your superior – that you started a brawl with a coupla 'Cons in the middle of a group of sparklings. Be a shame if any of them got caught in the crossfire."

Glory shot Blitzwing a stunned look, and opened a private channel between them. _You wouldn't threaten…_

 _I ain't that spark-less,_ he retorted, shooting her a glare. _Don't want any of the kids hurt. Just hopin' he wants the same thing._

In the end, it seemed the Autobot did want the same thing after all. He gave the two of them a long, venomous look, then tossed the gun at Blitzwing's feet. The triple-changer scooped it up and grabbed the Autobot's arms, pinning them behind his back.

Once it seemed that the guard wouldn't be a problem, Glory went to the corner where the Decepticon sparklings huddled, their optics wide and bright with amazement and fear. She retracted her blades and knelt before them, holding her hand out.

"It's all right," she said softly. "We're not going to hurt you. We're friends."

The children didn't look so sure about that, and just stared back nervously. Glory counted eight of them, six mechs and two femmes, and suspected that they were all very young – the oldest looked no older than she had been when her creators had been killed, and a few looked like they'd been little more than newbuilts when they'd come here. Her spark ached for them, and she wondered just how much propaganda and CPU-washing the Autobots had forced on them… and how much of it they believed.

_Just try to get their trust. That's most important. Get them to trust you, and then worry about fixing whatever damage Digger and the others did._

Her gaze rested on the very youngest of the group, a little femme with deep blue armor and a mask that covered most of her face. "Hello… what's your name?"

The femme blinked her optic shutters a few times, as if she had to process the question fully before she could answer. "Swift," she said at last, her voice so soft Glory had to strain to hear.

"Swift… that's a pretty name." She touched her chest. "Mine's Glory."

"Oh." Swift resumed staring up at her, seemingly transfixed by her.

"Kid, hurry it up!" Blitzwing ordered. "We don't have a lot of time!"

 _What do you think I'm trying to do?_ she thought irritably. She was fully aware that the longer they stood here, the greater the risk of more guards showing up. But she didn't dare just scoop up an armful of sparklings and take off with them, and risk scaring them even more. She wanted to be sure they understood this was a rescue, and not a capture.

A high whine broke into her thoughts, and her gaze focused on Swift again. The little newbuilt was shaking in fear, cleanser building up in her optics.

"It's okay, sweetie," Glory told her. "I'm a friend." On impulse she reached into her subspace pocket and dug around. She hadn't even bothered to empty her personal effects out of it upon coming to Beta Geode, and she should still have… there!

"Here," she said gently, drawing her old dragon toy out of subspace and holding it out to Swift. "This is Dragon. Maybe holding him will make you feel better?"

Swift's optics lit up, and she snatched Dragon and hugged him to her chest.

"You're a Decepticon too?" asked one of the older sparklings, a black mech with red markings.

"I am." She hitched her wings a little higher in pride. "I'm a Seeker."

"Cool!" he gushed. "I'm a Decepticon too! Or… I guess my creators were. But Digger says we gotta be Autobots now."

Glory wanted to scowl at that, but kept her expression neutral. "Do you want to be Autobots?"

"No," whined another sparkling, a bronze-and-green mech with rudimentary wings on his shoulders. "The Autobots don't like us. They tell us bad things about the Decepticons, and that they're evil and stuff. The stories they tell us are scary!"

"They say they're going to give us new parents," the black sparkling added. "Autobot parents. They say it'll make our lives better." His expression took on a stubborn cast. "But if I get new parents, I want them to be Decepticons! We're Decepticons! No matter what they say!"

Her spark flared with triumph at his words. So the "rehabilitation" hadn't taken root as the Autobots had hoped. That was wonderful as far as she was concerned. "What's your name?"

"Valiant."

"Valiant, we're here to take you and the other Decepticon sparklings to a new home," she told him. "A Decepticon base, where you'll be safe and no one will tell you what you can and can't be. How does that sound?"

Several of the kids cheered at that, and Valiant grinned broadly. Swift just hugged Dragon all the tighter, but her optics lit up at that.

"Is this all of you?" she asked. "Or are there more?"

"Just us," a violet mech with silver and green markings replied. "We all stick together. We tell each other stories about the time before here, so we don't forget." He pointed to his chest. "I'm Lancer." He said that with a proud air, as if it were the most important news in the world.

"Well, Valiant, Lancer, I'm going to need your help," Glory told them. "Do either of you have antigravs yet?"

They shook their heads. Blast. It would have been so much easier to get the sparklings out of here if they were able to fly.

"Blitzwing, I need you in jet form," she told the triple-changer. "We're going to have to carry them out on our backs."

"What about him?" Blitzwing demanded, jerking his head toward the guard.

"Let him go," she replied. "We'll be out of here before he can come back with reinforcements.

Blitzwing scowled, but he let his captive go. The guard immediately bolted for the door.

"Valiant, Lancer, we need two groups of four," she told the older sparklings. "Half on Blitzwing and half on me. And you need to hold on tight, understand?"

"We're gonna fly outta here?" asked the other femme, grinning.

"We're going to fly out of here," Glory confirmed. "It's the fastest way. Let's hurry!"

The sparklings cheered as she transformed to her jet mode, and no sooner had the last of her components clicked into place than she felt small hands and feet on her frame, the kids clambering aboard. Swift ended up seated just behind her cockpit, still clutching Dragon with one arm and gripping a panel of Glory's armor with the other. To her left, Blitzwing was grumbling a few choice words as Lancer herded three other sparklings onto the triple-changer's back before climbing aboard himself.

"Everyone ready?" Glory asked. "We take off on three! One-"

The doors leading from the academy proper to the yard hissed open, and a cluster of guards came charging out.

"Three!" Blitzwing bellowed, and took off with a roar of thrusters, the sparklings on his back screaming with delight at the sudden takeoff. Glory blasted after him, trying to go slowly enough that she didn't risk any of the sparklings flying off. A few plasma blasts screeched by as the guards took shots at them, but the shots went rather wide and stopped after a matter of seconds. Evidently someone with a saner mind had taken over and ordered the guards to quit shooting at sparklings.

 _Steelwing, we've got them!_ Glory reported. _All of them! The sparklings are safe!_

 _First good news I've heard all day,_ Steelwing replied, voice warm with relief. _I'm on my way out. We'll rendezvous in what's left of Vos and see if there's still a usable shuttle there to make our escape in._

 _Thank Primus,_ Blitzwing grumbled. _Don't think I'm gonna make it back to Beta Geode with four kids on my back. Blasted little buggers won't stop poking me!_

 _Aw, admit it, Blitz, you got a soft spot for the little ones,_ Steelwing teased.

_Do not! Can't stand the little fraggers!_

_Sure, whatever. Just get to Vos. I'll meet you guys there._

* * *

Luck finally seemed to be on their side. Not only did they make it to Vos without further upsets, but they found a shipyard with a few shuttles still in good working order. And though an Autobot shuttle tried to intercept them on their way out of the star system, it mysteriously backed off before it could get too close. Blitzwing called it luck, but Glory suspected Prime had something of a hand in their escape.

For the first time since they'd left Beta Geode, Glory allowed herself to relax, just laying back in a chair as Steelwing checked in with Stormrunner. Swift sat in her lap, still hugging Dragon and seeming content to just curl up against the Seeker and stay there. It felt odd having a sparkling so close, especially since she hadn't had contact with other sparklings since she was very young herself, but if it made Swift more comfortable she wasn't going to object.

"Mmm-hmm… yes, we're all present and accounted for… yes, even Glory… no, she's fine, not even a scratch… look, stop fussing, she's an adult now… yes, I know, but she's proven perfectly capable of taking care of herself…"

Swift glanced up at Glory, and Glory made a show of rolling her optics at whatever Stormrunner was fussing about. The younger femme giggled, burying her face in Dragon's wings as if trying to muffle her laughter.

"You found one? Well, thank Primus, at least one of our teams found what we're looking for." A pause. "Actually, no, but we found something that might make Shockwave even happier… no, not how to defeat Galvatron… would you believe sparklings? …no, I'm not pulling your leg, we found Decepticon sparklings… eight of them… I don't know all their names yet…"

Blitzwing stomped into the cockpit at that moment, grumbling something about "damn kids" under his air cycles. Glory had to muffle a giggle of her own behind her hand.

"We're on our way back. Probably a straight shot, since we've got a ship now. Sure you don't need a ride back? No? All right, see you back at base. Out." Steelwing cut the connection. "Good news – Stormrunner's team found a key to Vector Sigma."

Blitzwing pumped both fists in the air with a whoop. Glory wanted to echo the sentiment, but she didn't want to startle Swift and so settled for a laugh of relief.

"Don't mean this war of ours is over, of course," Steelwing pointed out. "But it's a start."

"Means we're a lot further ahead than we used to be," Blitzwing insisted. "We finally got a chance of winnin' this thing. Maybe more 'Cons'll join up with us and actually fight now that they know we've got a shot at an actual future."

"We can hope," Glory replied. "I just hope we get to Chaar in time. I worry about everyone there."

"Not a lot we can do until Shockwave actually plans an assault," Steelwing replied. "And ol' One-Optic is holding out until we can get more allies. Let's just hope he doesn't wait too long."

Glory's fuel tank clenched at that. She understood that Shockwave wanted to be prepared before they moved to overthrow Galvatron, but at the same time she feared that if he delayed their attack on Galvatron any longer, there'd be no one left on Chaar to save.

"How're the kids settling in?" Steelwing asked.

"Little slaggers wouldn't settle in to recharge," Blitzwing grumbled. "Finally told them if they so much as squeaked I'd throw 'em out the airlock. They just laughed at me."

Steelwing smirked. "They're 'Con sparklings. They don't scare easy. You probably just made them feel right at home." She laughed as Blitzwing turned to glare at her. "Did you get all their names?"

"The two oldest are Valiant and Lancer," Glory replied. "The oldest femme is Firebolt, then the rest of the mechs are Stardust, Ricochet, Hornet, and Echo. And the littlest one is Swift." She patted the femme's back, and she responded by nuzzling against Glory's chest.

"Looks like you got yourself a little one to look after," Steelwing noted with a chuckle. "She's taken to you."

Glory chuckled. "I don't know how good of a mother I'd make… I never thought about creating sparklings of my own before."

"I think you'd do just fine, kid," Steelwing noted. "All right, Blitzwing, stay in the cockpit and make sure we don't fly into an asteroid field or anything. I'm going to head in the back to get cleaned up. I feel like a garbage transport."

"You smell like one too," Blitzwing retorted, and ducked as she took a swing at him. "I'll keep an optic out."

Steelwing nodded and left. Blitzwing flopped into the pilot's chair with a sigh, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

"The sparklings tired you out that much?" asked Glory.

"Eh… just not used to being around them. Forgot how energetic they could be. Especially with eight of 'em and not just one." He dimmed his visor and folded his hands over his abdominal plate. "Kinda forgot how wild you could get."

She laughed softly. "Was I really that bad?"

"You were kinda a handful. Especially starting out, when your uncle was still getting used to you and vice versa. The whole base had a lot of adjusting to do."

Glory looked down at the young femme in her lap. Swift had dozed off by this point, still curled around the toy dragon and nestled up against the Seeker's chassis like an electro-kitten seeking warmth. Funny… she'd practically fallen into her uncle's care unannounced, just like Swift had rather unexpectedly fallen into Glory's charge. Events had come full circle, it seemed. She just hoped she could be as good a caretaker as her uncle had been.

"Kid?"

Glory glanced up. "Blitzwing?"

"We gotta talk. About… this. About us."

A tremor went through her systems at the tone in his voice. She had a feeling she knew what this was about… and she honestly had no idea how to feel about it. Steelwing's "lovebirds" remarks earlier might have been in jest, but they were far more accurate than Glory wanted to admit. She knew Blitzwing liked her to some degree, and she would be lying if she claimed not to admire and even like him back.

She liked him… and that terrified her. She'd never felt this way toward anyone before, and she had no idea how to handle it.

"Look, if you're uncomfortable with me liking you, I understand," Blitzwing went on, staring straight ahead as he talked. "I know it's gotta be creepy, having a mech old enough to be your grand-creator taking a shine to you. That and your uncle and I were never exactly on the best of terms. Slag, he'd probably blow a gasket if he were still around." He blew out a loud sigh. "If you want me to leave you alone, just say so. I don't want to creep you out."

She took a moment to reply, trying to figure out how best to voice what she wanted to say. "You… you don't creep me out."

His visor flickered in surprise, and he turned to face her directly. "What?"

"You don't creep me out," she repeated. "I… I know I was a pest to you when I was little… but then you saved me from Galvatron. And then again from the scavengers…" She felt like she was rambling, embarrassing herself, but she pressed on. "I realized you weren't as hateful as everyone made you out to be. You could be a good mech… and I liked that." She hesitated, then pushed on. "I like that… I like you."

Blitzwing smirked a little. "Well, don't feel obligated to like me just because I saved your chassis a couple times."

"It's not just that," she protested. "It's more than that…"

"Hey, I was teasing," he told her. "Mechs do that." He cocked his head slightly. "So… we're okay? You don't mind an old-timer triple-changer having a sweet spot for you?"

"You're not that old," she assured him. "And yeah… I don't mind it at all."

Blitzwing gave her a long look. Then he pushed himself out of his chair and moved to stand behind her, gently looping his arms around her. She found herself leaning back, resting her helm on his chest, enjoying the simple contact. She felt… safe, for lack of a better word. Safe with him close to her, arms around her.

"Just sorry I didn't say it earlier," he murmured, tightening his grip briefly in a hug. "Wanted to, but couldn't get up the bolts to do it. And when you got caught… I was afraid I'd never get the chance."

She reached up to squeeze his arm. "Sorry to scare you."

"Nah, don't be. It all worked out, right? We got out, we got the sparklings… things are workin' out for us for once."

She nodded, hoping against hope that their streak of good fortune would hold. So much could go wrong between now and Chaar… and now the Decepticons – and Glory herself – had something to lose.


	21. Deszaras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know everyone, Hasbro included, refers to Deszaras by his Americanized name, Deathsaurus. I prefer the original Japanese name, sue me...

By the time their shuttle touched down on Beta Geode's moon, the rendezvous point for both Steelwing and Stormrunner's teams, Glory was exhausted. The sparklings had quickly gotten bored – seeing as no one had thought they would be rescuing children on this mission, they hadn't prepared any way to keep the little ones occupied on the return trip. At first the excitement of returning to be among their own kind had kept them from misbehaving, but once that had worn off, things got quickly worse.

"He's touching me!" Firebolt wailed.

"Am not!" Echo retorted.

"Are too! Your wing's bumping my shoulder!"

"Then move over!"

"I'm not moving over! I was here first!"

"Knock it off, you two!" Blitzwing bellowed. "Primus Almighty, can't you brats go five seconds without fighting? Both of you scoot over a bit."

The scarlet femme and the bronze-and-green mech glared at one another, as if each was blaming the other for starting the argument. Then they complied, each moving a bit away from the other, before resuming their sulking expressions and poses.

"Are we there yet?" moaned Hornet.

"We'll get there when we get there," Steelwing replied through clenched dental plates. Evidently the last several hours had been just as trying for her as they had been for everyone else.

Even Glory was getting rather annoyed at the antics of the kids. Just an hour ago she'd gone to the engine room to investigate a malfunction, only to find Lancer and Valiant trying to pry something important apart to see how it worked. She'd lectured them on safety and behaving themselves, and they had agreed to stay out of trouble, but she wondered how much of the talk had sunk in.

 _Was I this wild as a sparkling?_ she wondered. _I wish I still had this much energy… it's like it's impossible to exhaust these little ones. Maybe they just have a way to siphon off energy from the adults and use it for themselves._

"We're landing," Steelwing announced, sounding enormously relieved. "Looks like Storm and the others beat us here. You're almost home, kids."

The sparklings broke into cheers at the news.

"We'll have to leave the shuttle here," Steelwing remarked. "Coming back with a ship is just going to make Bulldog ask questions."

"And coming back with sparklings won't make him ask questions?" asked Glory.

"The cover story is that we ran into a ship full of scavengers and found the sparklings as their prisoners," Steelwing informed them. "And Bulldog may be stubborn, but he's not gonna complain about us rescuing kids." She guided the ship to a landing. "Last stop, everyone off. Kids, stay close – you're not ready to leave when the adults are, you get left behind."

None of the kids seemed to take her threat seriously, and as soon as the doors opened they spilled out of the shuttle and scattered in every direction, whooping and laughing. Even Swift dashed off, giggling and still hauling Dragon in her arms, just grateful for a chance to stretch her legs. Glory stepped out at a more sedate pace, Blitzwing and Steelwing close behind.

"Glory!" Stormrunner hurried over and swept her up in a hug. "You're all right!"

"Of course I am," she replied, embarrassed at the attention. "I told you I could handle myself."

"And she did," Steelwing put in. "Quite well, I might add. Not many mechs can face down Optimus Prime himself without choking."

"You ran into the Prime?" Stormrunner's optics flared in shock, and she released Glory to round on the Praxian. "Why didn't you tell me she ran into the Prime?"

"Because she came out of it just fine, Storm," Steelwing retorted. "Quit fussing already."

"By the Allspark," murmured Nightwatch, staring as Stardust and Firebolt charged past, giggling wildly. "I thought you were pulling our legs. I didn't think we had any sparklings left."

"These were the ones still in Shockwave's academy when it fell," Glory explained. "The ones too young to be upgraded. It's not a key to Vector Sigma… but it's something, at least."

"Speaking of which…" Spinister fumbled in subspace before producing a gold-plated artifact, roughly the size and shape of a standard keycard. "They've razed most of Polyhex, but they missed some scientist's bunker. This was in a safe inside."

Glory couldn't help but stare at the key, not sure whether to be entranced or skeptical. The fate of their kind rested on something so… ordinary? Aside from the coloring it looked like any other keycard, and could just as easily open a regular door or activate some perfectly ordinary computer system as it could access the fabled supercomputer at Cybertron's core. And yet, at the same time, there was a peculiar glow to the device, an energy field that her sensors couldn't identify but that existed all the same.

Blitzwing gave an impressed whistle. "Wow, did we get lucky or what?"

"Don't jinx it!" Nightwatch insisted. "This is the first good thing to happen for us in a long time – I don't want it to be the last either."

"It won't be," Glory assured the black-and-orange Seeker. "This is the first step to us returning home. To getting Cybertron back, and securing a future for our kind."

Blitzwing gave Glory a quizzical look. "Since when did you get so eloquent, kid?"

She felt her faceplate heat up with a sudden blush. "Is it so wrong to be happy that we're one step closer to overthrowing Galvatron, or going home again?"

"Nah… just never thought I'd hear such inspiring words from the kid who glued all Mixmaster's tools to his workbench."

Steelwing snorted. Glory just sighed and rolled her optics. There were things from her childhood she was never going to live down, it seemed.

"Why're we standing around yapping?" Spinister demanded. "Shouldn't we be gettin' back to base?"

"Excuse us for trying to touch base before we head back," Steelwing grumped. "All right, let's round up the kids and get 'em to Beta Geode. None of 'em have flight capabilities, so we'll have to haul them back ourselves. Blitz, Spinister, you're the stronger mechs, so you'll have to haul two apiece. The rest of you take one."

Nightwatch made a grab for Hornet as he dashed past, but missed by a good handspan. He tried again as Echo veered close, but the sparkling ducked out of reach. It was like the Seeker was afraid to touch the sparklings himself, and that made Glory laugh softly. Though he was hardly the only one – Spinister had managed to nab Valiant but was holding the black sparkling at arm's length, as if afraid he'd be contaminated by the sparkling's energy.

Something tapped at Glory's leg, and she looked down to find Swift looking up at her, Dragon still tucked under one arm. She wasn't sure why this particular little one seemed so attached to her, but she would be lying if she didn't admit that the feeling was mutual. Perhaps it was because Swift was so much younger than the others, and so sparked protective feelings in her. Or perhaps it was because the sparkling reminded her so much of herself when she was young, orphaned and scared and having to depend on a total stranger for safety…

She shook her head, clearing her CPU. There would be time for reminiscing later.

"You ready to go, little one?" she asked, smiling fondly.

Swift nodded. "I can fly on your back again?"

"Of course… just hold on tight, all right?" She transformed, and Swift clambered aboard, clinging tightly to her paneling. Once she was sure the femme was secure she activated her thrusters, hovering in place and waiting for the others to secure their unlikely passengers.

"All I can say is Shockwave had better be fraggin' grateful for this," Blitzwing grumbled, finally snatching Stardust and tucking the wriggling mech under one arm like a football.

Glory just laughed, though privately she hoped Blitzwing's attitude toward the little ones was an act, or that he'd at least warm up to them. These sparklings had been through so much already, and it didn't seem fair to throw them into another environment where they would be seen as just another burden. And she hoped that Bulldog wouldn't get any ideas about rehabilitation himself – he might not be an Autobot, but there were certainly times when he thought like one.

Finally the last sparkling was secure, and Steelwing gave the order for everyone to move out. Glory led the way, taking it slow to ensure she wouldn't lose her passenger.

* * *

Glory couldn't remember ever seeing Shockwave look so… well, shocked. He didn't have a mouth to gape open or optic shutters to widen, but the expression was there all the same. The moment she and Stormrunner herded the pack of sparklings into the cavern that served as the Decepticons' meeting place, Shockwave's headfins twitched in amazement, and his optic flared as brightly as a searchlight.

"What in the…" he murmured, voice soft with disbelief.

"Sparklings, sir," Stormrunner explained. "Steelwing's team found them during their search for the key. We judged it in the Decepticons' best interests to bring them back to Beta Geode."

"Sparklings…" Shockwave repeated. His gaze remained locked on the little ones, and he seemed to be searching for something to say. "How is this possible… I thought the academy had been destroyed too quickly for anyone to make it to the security bunker…"

"It's Professor Shockwave!" Firebolt shouted. "From the academy!" And she ran forward to grab onto the gunformer's leg. "You remember us, doncha?"

Shockwave shook his head, seeming to snap out of his stunned trance, and he lowered himself to one knee to better regard the sparklings. "This is unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. It is good to see you again, young ones."

The other sparklings rushed up to meet him, clamoring excitedly and trying to demand a share of his attention. Glory hadn't realized that the sparklings at Shockwave's academy had liked him so well – as a sparkling she had always seen him as stoic and dull. Though given that he was probably the closest thing any of these children had had for a parental figure, perhaps they saw him differently. Or perhaps they were just happy to finally see a familiar Decepticon face after so long in Autobot captivity.

"We also uncovered a key to Vector Sigma," Stormrunner reported, handing the artifact over. "Not quite as exciting, I'm afraid, but still valuable."

Shockwave took the key and subspaced it. "Well done. Very well done indeed. Your missions have helped us secure a future for the Decepticon cause."

"Are we gonna go kick some Autobot butts?" asked Valiant excitedly. "I wanna see the look on Ultra Magnus' face when we go back and start smashing things!" He mimed firing a laser rifle, making _pew pew_ sounds with his vocalizer.

"You have a long way to go yet before you're ready for a battle, young one," Stormrunner informed him. "Yes, there's going to be a battle soon, but the eight of you are going to stay far away from the fighting. We can't afford to lose you again."

"Aww," whined Valiant. "But I wanna help!"

Shockwave gazed at the young mech, headfins cocking at a thoughtful angle. Then he nodded. "Perhaps the sparklings can help us, in a fashion."

Glory frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Before you arrived with the children and the key, I was about to make contact with a Decepticon faction on Neo-Kaon."

Stormrunner's wings twitched in sudden interest. "Beatbox's cassettes found a Decepticon outpost?"

"Two outposts, to be precise," Shockwave replied. "The outposts on Bast and Tethys were abandoned – the inhabitants are presumed dead. The outpost on Pandora is still active, under the command of a mech named Octos, but they have elected to split off entirely from the Decepticon forces and become their own faction." He shook his head in disgust. "They will be of no help in our mission."

Glory frowned. "How could they turn their backs on the cause? At a time when the Decepticons need them the most?"

"Not every mech shares your loyalty to the cause, Glory," Shockwave replied.

She frowned. She thought herself more loyal to the Decepticons as a whole than to any sort of cause – she would rather see her friends safe and happy than anything else. But she didn't say anything.

"At any rate, the outpost on Neo-Kaon is under the command of a mech named Deszaras. He, too, has declared his followers to be their own faction, the Destrons. However, he has shown no signs of wanting to fission off from the Decepticon forces entirely, and it may be possible to negotiate a deal of some sort with him."

"What do the sparklings have to do with this?" asked Stormrunner suspiciously.

"As powerful and proud as he is, Deszaras has his own weak spot." And without further preamble Shockwave turned and activated a small vidscreen set into the stone wall of the cavern.

"Can we watch, sir?" asked Ricochet eagerly.

"You may, provided you stay back," Shockwave replied. "Only step forward when I call you. I hope to negotiate a truce with Deszaras without resorting to other measures, but it doesn't hurt to have something to fall back on."

Glory wondered what he meant by that. But Swift chose that moment to cling to her leg, and she reached down to pat her helm comfortingly.

The viewscreen sputtered a bit, then flashed an image of a towering, imposing mech, glowering at Shockwave through the screen as if hoping to disintegrate him with his very gaze. Glory's fans caught at the sight of him. He was huge, taller than a Dinobot, even taller than that Autobot scientist Skyfire, and his sweeping curved wings – not jet wings, but like stylized falcon wings – made him seem even larger. He gleamed dark blue and silver, his almost beast-like armor detailed with red and gold here and there, and his helm bore proud headfins and a hooked projection over his brow that looked almost like the beak of a bird of prey. He reclined on a carved marble throne, clawed fingers resting on the arm rests, a haughty smirk on his faceplate. She had never seen a mech this exotic in appearance, and had to admit he looked quite fearsome and imposing.

"Shockwave," he sneered, his voice rough and touched with an accent Glory couldn't place. "So the rumors of your deactivation were wrong after all."

"By my own design, General Deszaras-"

"That's EMPEROR Deszaras to you!" he barked, claws clenching on the arms of his throne. "Emperor of the Destron Empire! Though 'Lord Deszaras' is also acceptable."

"He's delusional," Stormrunner whispered disdainfully.

Glory wasn't so sure about that. This mech seemed pretty arrogant to her, but far from delusional if he was able to rule a planet effectively. And he certainly looked the part of an Emperor, and carried himself with a regal manner. She could almost imagine this mech leading the Decepticons – he certainly had the charisma and power.

"Very well, Lord Deszaras," Shockwave replied mildly. "When we lost contact with Neo-Kaon, we assumed your forces had been wiped out."

Deszaras chuckled. "By my own design, to use your words. It became clear to me that the Decepticon Empire had crumbled, and to continue to serve it would be folly. So rather than throw our energy and troops into a lost cause, my followers and I elected to build our own Empire from the ground up. So far only one star system lies in our power, but soon our reach will grow to encompass the galaxy!"

Okay, so maybe he was just a little delusional. And his cackling laugh was a little too similar to Galvatron's for her tastes. Hopefully that was where the similarities ended… she didn't know if she could stand another Galvatron among the Decepticon forces.

"What if I told you that there is a chance we can restore the Decepticons to their former glory?" Shockwave inquired. "That we can overthrow Galvatron and rebuild our forces, to retake Cybertron from the Autobots? Would that convince you to rejoin our cause?"

Deszaras smirked. "And why would I want to do that? The Decepticons are a dying race, their fire growing dimmer with every passing cycle. To unite with your forces would mean the death of my people… and I would rather see the Destrons endure, and become a mighty force in their own right. No… we will keep to ourselves."

Shockwave's headfins pinned back, but his voice kept its composure. "Indeed… but what if I told you that we have secured an artifact that can mean the future of our race?"

The self-styled Emperor cocked his head like a curious turbohound. "A Key to Vector Sigma?"

"Precisely that."

"Prove it."

Shockwave removed the key from subspace and held it before the vidscreen, the artifact flashing once as it caught the light. Deszaras' optics flashed with an emotion Glory didn't quite catch before it winked out, but the smug smirk never left his face.

"How fortunate for you," he said disdainfully, "but I've discovered my own methods for creating new Cybertronian life… methods that don't require having to ferry newbuilts to Cybertron for sparks of their own. Your trump card means nothing to me."

Shockwave flickered his optic in surprise. "That is impossible."

"Impossible, you say?" Another cackle. "How do you think the Autobots created the Dinobots without making a trip to Vector Sigma? There are methods, and my scientists have uncovered said methods and improved on them. My Empire is guaranteed to last, even to thrive. I say again – why should we join you?"

The gunformer was silent a long moment, headfins flicking slightly as he considered. Then he tried another tactic. "Very well… we will not ask you to ally your Destrons with our Decepticons."

"Sir…" began Stormrunner, dismayed.

Shockwave held up a hand, silencing the black Seeker. "What I propose instead is a truce. The Decepticons on Beta Geode are organizing a final strike against Galvatron's forces on Chaar. There are too few of us, however, and we had hoped to find allies with one of our outposts. Your Destrons may no longer be true Decepticons, but perhaps we can still forge an alliance to overthrow Galvatron and take command of the Decepticon forces proper."

Deszaras considered that, raising one clawed hand to his chin. "I fail to see how this benefits the Destrons, Shockwave. What do we stand to gain from your little alliance? It's my troops' oil you seek to shed on the battlefield… what do we get in return for laying our necks on the line for you?"

"You would benefit through a long-term alliance with the Decepticon Empire," Shockwave replied. "So long as your kind did nothing to terminate said alliance, such as attacking a Decepticon-controlled world, you would have our aid as needed, and Destron-controlled worlds would be left alone. And moreover, you would benefit from the knowledge that your aid has saved countless lives from being terminated by Galvatron's insanity or the Autobot's conquest. Your actions would make you a hero, not an enemy, to Decepticon-kind."

Deszaras snorted. "You'll have to do better than that, Shockwave."

Shockwave sighed. "Very well…" He turned to face the others. "Glory, bring them forward."

She knew exactly what he referred to by "them," and she bent down and lifted Swift in her arms. "Come on, kids."

The sparklings didn't need to be told twice – they swarmed forward, gathering around Shockwave and chattering excitedly. Echo even tried to climb up the violet mech's legs, and the gunformer finally relented and stooped to pick the young mech up. Glory moved to stand beside Shockwave, Swift nestling in her arms and peering shyly at the viewscreen from behind one of Dragon's wings. The Destron Emperor, for his part, was gaping back at them with wide, bright optics.

"That guy's cool!" Stardust exclaimed, pointing at the viewscreen. "I wanna look like him when I get upgraded!"

"Why do your wings look so funny?" asked Hornet.

"You're awesome!" Lancer gushed. "Look at those claws!"

"He's pretty," Firebolt noted.

"Don't call him pretty!" Valiant grumbled in disgust. "He's not a femme! He's not pretty! He's awesome!"

"He can be pretty and awesome at the same time!" Firebolt insisted.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"That's enough, children," Shockwave ordered. "Behave yourselves for His Highness."

Deszaras finally found his voice. "How… what? I… I was under the impression that Megatron ordered all sparklings upgraded in the final days of the war…"

"A handful of young ones were exempted from that order due to their age," Shockwave replied. "After the Battle of Unicron, the remainder of our sparklings fell into Autobot hands, but our forces were able to recover them." His gaze moved briefly to Echo, who waved eagerly at the screen, then back up to Deszaras. "Unfortunately, if we are unable to remove Galvatron from power, these sparklings face an uncertain future. This is why we fight Galvatron, and seek to restore the Decepticons to power – for the sparklings. For the future generation. For I would rather see them inherit our homeworld than the wasteland of Chaar."

Deszaras raised his hand, as if trying to touch Echo through the viewscreen. The expression on his faceplate was no longer of sneering pride, but of surprise and wonder, even delight. Could it be possible that the self-styled Destron Emperor had a soft spot for sparklings?

Suddenly Shockwave's remark about the sparklings helping them made sense. Shockwave was fully aware of Deszaras' fondness for the little ones, and was exploiting it right now. Glory didn't know whether to be grateful for their leader's knowledge of that weak spot, or irritated that he was using the sparklings as a means to an end. Still, if it helped them and didn't hurt the kids, could she really complain?

"You have the aid of the Destron Empire in overthrowing Galvatron," Deszaras said at last. "But under conditions."

"Give your conditions, and I will see if they are reasonable," Shockwave informed him.

Deszaras nodded. "One – the sparklings shall not see combat. They shall not even be close to the fighting."

"Agreed. To put them anywhere near the field of battle would be disastrous. I had planned on finding a safe location for them before we closed in on the Chaar base."

Was that relief on the Emperor's faceplate? "Two – Neo-Kaon and the other planets in its star system remain _ours._ This is our home now, and I don't care if it started out as a Decepticon outpost – we've fought for this world too long, and won't see it taken from us."

Shockwave considered, then nodded. "Done. There are other worlds we can claim for our own use."

"Three – once Galvatron is out of power, I will leave one of my top officers among you as a representative of our kind. They shall serve as a liaison between our forces from this point forward. This is non-negotiable if you wish to preserve any sort of alliance between our people."

"Very well… that is also agreeable. A counter-condition – you will share with us the secret of how to construct new Cybertronians without the aid of Vector Sigma. We cannot let our kind fade into extinction should Vector Sigma be destroyed or we lose our key."

Deszaras scowled, but finally nodded. "Done. My scientists will share that information with you AFTER the battle." He leaned back on the throne. "When do you move out for Chaar?"

"Tomorrow."

Glory stiffened in surprise. So soon? When they had just gotten back from their mission on Cybertron? But they didn't even have a plan, let alone the forces and equipment for such an assault. What was Shockwave thinking?

"There's no possible way for us to get to Beta Geode in that time," Deszaras said with a scowl.

"You won't need to. Proceed directly to Chaar from Neo-Kaon. We will rendezvous with you on Harrow, the closest uninhabited world to Chaar, and confirm our plans there."

"Very well, Shockwave. I look forward to our work together." He grinned, baring fang-like dental plates. "It's been far too long since we've had a proper battle… this shall be splendid." And the viewscreen winked out.

Stormrunner glared at Shockwave. "That was cruel, using the children as a bargaining chip!"

"I was only telling Lord Deszaras the truth," Shockwave replied, setting Echo down. "Despite his reputation, he was well-known among the Decepticon officers for being fond of children, no matter what their species. I theorized that if he knew the risks of leaving Galvatron in power included danger to the sparklings, he would be moved to act. I wished to use that as a last resort, however."

"Sir… tomorrow? Isn't that too soon?"

Shockwave leveled a stern look on Glory. "Given the conditions on Chaar, tomorrow might be too late rather than too soon. The only reason I have waited this long to act is because we hadn't the mechpower to succeed. Now that we have Deszaras on our side, as well as the morale boost of both the key and the sparklings, it would be foolish not to act as soon as possible."

She drew in a deep intake and nodded. What he said made perfect sense. If anything had happened to her friends on Chaar in her absence, she would never forgive herself. And if moving out now saved at least a few lives, it would be worth it.

"What about the sparklings?" asked Stormrunner. "We very well can't take them with us."

"We cannot leave them on Beta Geode," Shockwave replied. "I do not intend on returning to this world once we leave it, unless it's to capture it for the Decepticons' gain. We will stock up as much energy as we can carry and take it to Chaar with us, and find a safe location for the sparklings before we strike at Galvatron's base. After we have taken the base and eliminated Galvatron and his followers, we will plan our return to Cybertron."

"You make it sound so simple," Stormrunner noted. "I have a feeling it won't be so easy."

"It won't be easy at all," Shockwave replied. "But we have to try… for all our sakes."

* * *

When Blitzwing finally caught up to Glory again, she was sitting on the edge of the plateau, overlooking the crystalline plain. The crystals glittered with a subdued silver fire in the moonlight, seeming to create a starscape to rival that of the night sky above. Here and there something glittering shifted, some wild silicon creature out for a nocturnal hunt or retreating to its resting place. The occasional bugling roar of a star dragon cut through the otherwise silent night, as if the creatures felt the need to announce their presences before retiring to their lairs.

He had to admit it was beautiful… and it would be a shame to leave it.

Glory didn't turn around, but she seemed to sense Blitzwing was there and slid over a bit to make room for him. He took the unspoken invitation, lowering himself to sit beside her. She looked pensive, almost troubled, and he wondered what was bothering her.

"Chaar's going to be pretty drab compared to this," she murmured.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Still, nothing says we can't come back. Yank this place out from under Bulldog and claim it as a 'Con world."

"Maybe someday," she admitted, though she didn't exactly look cheered at that prospect.

Blitzwing figured a subject change was in order. "How're the kids?"

"They're doing well. Shockwave's spread them out among the Decepticon forces, assigning caretakers to each one. Stormrunner and Wavebreaker got Valiant. I think Stormrunner's worried that Wavebreaker's going to corrupt him." She chuckled a little at that.

"How'd Bulldog take suddenly getting eight new arrivals to the base?"

"I don't think he bought Shockwave's story that we found them on a scavenger transport," she confessed. "And he didn't seem happy that Shockwave was calling the shots as to who was raising them. But he did say he was happy they were safe, and that he had no intention of rushing their upgrades." And a pained look crossed her faceplate.

"Hey, kid… I know you got upgraded too soon," Blitzwing told her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "But it was for your own safety. And if this mission succeeds and we get Galvatron out of the way… there won't be a need to rush these kids' upgrades. They'll grow up proper."

She turned toward him, a bit of a smile tugging at her lip plates. "This from the mech who doesn't like kids?"

"Hey, they're not that bad once you get used to them," he admitted. "Sure, they were annoying at first, but they grow on you. And some of 'em have got real spunk. Kind of like you."

She laughed softly. "Good… because I'm keeping one of them."

His visor flickered in surprise. "So… Shocks assigned one to you?"

"He didn't so much assign me one as much as I told him she was staying with me and that was final." She leaned back on her hands. "Swift… reminds me of myself when I was young. I look at her and I feel like I know how she feels… alone and scared in the world, wanting something stable to hold on to. When she looked at me back in Iacon, scared but trusting, I felt responsible for her. I felt like she'd latched on to me, seeing me as a protector. I guess I feel like I have no right to take that from her. If that means being her mother now… so be it."

Well, that made things all the more interesting. He would never have pinned Glory down as the type to want to raise a sparkling. But then, she was young and remembered being a sparkling herself better than perhaps anyone else among the Decepticons. Maybe she'd be the perfect mother.

 _Wonder what kind of a father you'll make,_ he thought suddenly. _Because if you and Glory really do hit it off, the kid's going to be yours too… all right, stop it. Just because you like her doesn't mean anything permanent is going to come of this. Don't leap ahead of yourself._

"Blitz?"

He shook his head. "Sorry… just thinking."

She looked about to ask him what he was thinking about, then thought better of it. "Are you worried about the mission?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not overly. And remember what I told you, kid – focus on what you need to do. Don't look too far ahead, because that'll just make you panic. Concentrate on the now." _Says the mech who was practically planning his bonding ceremony in his CPU just a minute ago,_ he thought to himself, and then squelched the thought.

"I can't help it," she admitted. "I can't get it out of my CPU, this whole strike on Galvatron. It's frightening… but in a way it's exciting too. Because if we win this, we'll actually have a future to look forward to."

"We?" he repeated. "As in the Decepticons?"

She fidgeted a bit. "Well… that too… but I was also meaning us."

His spark flared a bit at that, but he tried to play it cool. "Well, don't go making plans just yet… we still got a battle to fight. And any number of things can happen between then and now..."

Her hand on his silenced him, and before he could start talking again she leaned forward and brushed her lip plates against his. All he could get out after that was a few incoherent sputters.

"I love you, you silly," she told him, laughing softly. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Uh… wow." His faceplate warmed uncontrollably at that, but his spark tingled with a joy he hadn't known before, a euphoric warmth that seemed to spread through his entire sensory net. She loved him… and he loved her in return. Somehow, that seemed to make everything else, even the upcoming attack on Chaar, pale in comparison.

"I love you too, kid," he replied, and took her hand in his, squeezing it. "I think I started falling for you the minute I saw you again. When I realized the Seeker I rescued from the scavengers was TC's kid, I thought for sure you were beyond my reach, that you'd never look twice at me. And when the Autobots grabbed you in the archives… I thought I'd go out of my CPU with worry. You mean the universe to me… and somehow I know that no matter what happens tomorrow, we're going to be okay."

She smiled back at him, tightening her grip on his hand. "You don't mind that I come with… well, a liability? With Swift?"

"Of course not! Slag, so long as the kid turns out as good as you did. Though with you as her mother and me as her father, how can she not grow up to be awesome? Maybe we'll finally get a femme triple-changer out of her."

She burst out laughing. "Oh you… you're impossible. But I love you anyhow."

He chuckled and pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. The two of them stayed like that for a long while, not talking, just enjoying their closeness and the beauty of the night, relishing a final moment of solitude and serenity before the coming storm.


	22. Assault

"They're so little," Swift whispered. "Are they really gonna grow up to be big?"

"Bigger than Skyfire, little one," Glory replied, hugging Swift close. "Kind of hard to believe, but they'll grow fast. Doesn't mean they'll stop being beautiful, though."

Swift nodded and peered out through a gap in the crystals that concealed them from the star dragons' view. The parent dragons were lounging nearby, limbs sprawled to soak up the sun's rays, their every move deceptively languorous as they watched their hatchlings tumble and wrestle. Glory knew the laziness was an act, that all it would take was a flicker of movement or a screech of pain or fright from the dragonets to make them leap into action. And she wasn't about to give them cause to do so.

Perhaps it was dangerous to take the sparkling out to see the star dragons – and she knew if Stormrunner knew what she was up to, she would probably pitch a fit. But she wanted to see Wildfire one last time before they left. And Swift had wanted to see the dragons for herself, and Glory couldn't exactly deny her the chance.

The red dragonet currently had his green sibling pinned on the ground, snarling as he clamped his jaws over the loser's throat. He hadn't any fangs yet, and the bite couldn't have been hard enough to do damage, but the green hatchling squeaked and wailed as if he were being gutted alive. That only seemed to egg Wildfire on, and he nipped at his sibling's wings and legs.

Swift tried to stifle a giggle. "They're silly."

"Very silly." Glory had to smile a little at their antics.

Finally the blue dragon saw fit to intervene, and he rose to his feet and reached out with a paw to separate the two hatchlings. The green rolled to his feet and bolted for a cluster of violet crystal "blooms" to hide, while Wildfire hissed in dismay at the match being ended too soon for his tastes. He bit and clawed at his parent's paw, but the blue dragon just held him until he finally stopped struggling and hung limp in his grip. Only then did he set Wildfire down and go back to lay down, leaving the red dragonet to sniff and huff grumpily to himself.

A soft crunch of a foot coming to rest on the pebbles and crystal shards behind Glory made her tense, and it took all her willpower not to turn and confront the intruder. She had a very good feeling as to who was behind her, and she sensed that he didn't mean her harm… yet. Hopefully he wasn't stupid enough to try anything until the star dragons had left.

"Can we take him with us?" Swift whispered, looking up at Glory. "The red one? He's cute and pretty and he'd make a good pet."

A brief flash of memory crossed Glory's CPU, a vision of herself as a sparkling begging her uncle for a pet. She let it linger a moment before pushing it aside and addressing Swift again.

"I wish we could, little one," she said softly, "but we can't."

"Aww… why not?"

"Because he belongs here." She squeezed Swift's hand. "This is his home. If we take him away from it, he'll be lonely and miss his friends and family. Remember how scared and lonely you were when the Autobots had you? He'd feel the same way."

"Oh." Swift lowered her head, looking a little disappointed. But she nodded and squeezed Glory's hand in return. "I wouldn't want him to have to leave his family."

"Neither would I. I'd love to take him with us, but it's best for him to stay here on Beta Geode, with others of his kind." She turned her head just slightly, including the mech behind her in their quiet conversation. "It isn't good for anyone to be separated from their kind. Even if the one doing the separating has the best of intentions."

The mech moved in closer and crouched down beside Glory, lowering his own voice to avoid attracting attention. "Don't preach to me, Seeker. You're a newbuilt compared to me. I don't need you lording yourself over me as if you had more experience."

"I'm just stating a fact, Bulldog." She wrapped her arms a little more tightly around Swift. "The star dragons belong here, on Beta Geode. It's their home, and they've evolved to adapt to its environment. Taking one away would be to doom it to extinction."

Bulldog snorted. "You're not just talking about stardrags, Seeker."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

"Don't be cute with me, kid. I know full well that you're talking about the 'Con kids." His gaze remained fixed on the star dragons, but his words were aimed at her. "I've known for a long time Shockwave never intended on staying with the neutrals forever, and that he'd be taking a good chunk of our former Decepticons with him when he left. I planned on that, and was even prepared to fight him if he tried to overthrow our base before he left. What I didn't intend was for him to find sparklings… and to take them with him when he left. Thought he had enough of a spark to want to leave them someplace safe. Seems I was wrong."

She narrowed her optics. "Are you implying that you want to keep them here… even if it means keeping them here by force?"

"You're puttin' words in my vocalizer, Seeker," Bulldog snapped, careful to keep his voice low to avoid alerting the dragons. "But… yes. I'd rather the kids stayed here. It's safe here. On Chaar they face starvation and violence, and being upgraded to become front-line grunts in a pointless war. At least here on Beta Geode, they'd be safe."

"The children need to stay with their own kind," Glory told him. "They're Decepticons. Not neutrals, not Autobots, but Decepticons. You promise them a peaceful life, but it's a life denying their true selves. They deserve to be among their own people… their family."

Bulldog turned to face her now, his remaining optic softening slightly. "I ain't like Magnus, wantin' to recondition the kids to deny their true natures. I just want what's best for them. And for you, believe it or not."

Glory narrowed her optics, not sure how to respond to that.

"You're a bright kid, Glory. You're still young, with so much of your life ahead of you. And you've got a good spark in you. You don't have to throw your lot in with Shocky – you could stay here, with the kids, and raise 'em as you see fit. It'd be a good, decent life, without constantly having to fight to stay alive. And the kids would have a chance at living good sparkling-hoods before upgrading, without the threat of being forced to upgrade early. You've got other options than just blindly following ol' Cyclops – just think them over before you leap."

She looked down at Swift, who was curled up against her chest as if trying to hide from the conversation itself. The thought of anything happening to Swift, whether it was injury in the upcoming battle or a forced premature upgrade, made her internals clench and twist painfully. Bulldog's offer was tempting, and it would mean safety for both Swift and the other sparklings. Shockwave's path would mean constant danger, and despite his assurances that the children would be kept out of harm's way, there was still that risk that something could happen to them.

In the end, though, she shook her head. "I can't do that. Not any more than you could allow us to turn your base into a Decepticon stronghold. You have your ideals you wish to fight for… and I have mine."

"You're sure, kid?"

"Absolutely." She nodded emphatically. "Are you going to try to stop us?"

Bulldog frowned, and he seemed to be seriously considering that possibility. But in the end, he shook his head. "Not much point. You and the others've made up your CPUs, obviously. Tryin' to stop you would only start a war here, and that'd scrap everything we tried to accomplish here."

Her spark raised slightly at that. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he grumbled. "You an' the others are headed for a death trap. You'll get to Chaar an' wish you'd listened to me."

"We'll see," she replied simply.

The star dragons rose and began herding the hatchlings off at that moment, the little red dragonet snapping playfully at his parents' noses as they went. Glory slowly stood while they were preoccupied, and turned to make her way toward the cave that served as the Decepticons' rendezvous point. It was time to go, and they had a long journey ahead of them to get to Harrow, then Chaar.

"You understand you're burnin' your bridges here if you go," Bulldog warned. "Leave now, you're not welcome back. An' tell Shocks if he shows his face here again, he'll be greeted with the business end of a gun."

She frowned at the implied threat, but nodded. "I understand… and I'm willing to take that risk. And I'll pass that along." And she walked off, leaving Bulldog behind.

* * *

Privately Swindle thought this was a very bad idea. Onslaught was going to get their entire team killed, and there had to be better ways to solve this impossible situation than this. But their esteemed leader had been ignoring his advice for years now, so why bother speaking up if he was just going to be blown off yet again?

He hunched his shoulders, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, as he followed the Combaticon leader into the throne room of the base. The five of them didn't exactly cut an impressive picture – they were all haggard and bleary-opticked from the increasingly small energy rations, and their armor bore scuffs and dents from the multiple fights that had broken out among the Decepticons over the past few weeks. Being confined to close quarters had driven most of their troops stir-crazy, the fliers edgy with claustrophobia and even the groundpounders growing increasingly antsy as time went by. That, combined with their dwindling energy and supply reserves, was making base life more miserable by the day. Something had to be done.

Onslaught's idea of "something," apparently, was appealing to Galvatron to lift the lockdown of the base. Because that had worked so well before, Swindle thought darkly.

Galvatron lounged on his throne as the Combaticons approached, one elbow propped on the arm and his head resting against that hand. He tapped the fingers of his other hand against the other arm of his throne, an erratic drumming that somehow made Swindle's sensory net prickle with unease. Despite looking fairly relaxed, the Decepticon commander's optics flickered madly, a sign that they would have to tread carefully here. In contrast Cyclonus stood serenely by the throne, so still he could have been painted there.

With disgust Swindle also noted that the two of them looked to be in immaculate condition, paint free of marks or scratches and optics glowing with full energy. It figured that the two of them would insist on full energy rations for themselves even as the rest of the Decepticons scraped to get by. If things continued at this rate, those two would be the only Decepticons left.

Onslaught halted before the throne and bowed deeply. "My Lord Galvatron, we come before you with a request."

Galvatron smirked. "At least you come before me with the proper attitude, Onslaught. For once. Speak your desires."

"He sounds pretty calm," Vortex whispered. "Maybe this'll work."

Swindle nodded in reply, though privately he doubted it.

"My lord… I respectfully request permission to lead the Combaticons on an energy raid," Onslaught went on. "Our reserves have run out, and we desperately need-"

The change was abrupt, though not entirely surprising. One moment Galvatron was the picture of relaxation; the next he was sitting bolt upright and had his cannon-arm raised, the end of the weapon smoking and glowing with heat. Onslaught reeled back, a plasma blast piercing his stomach, and collapsed to the floor. Swindle's tanks lurched as he rushed to his leader's side, clamping a hand over the hole in an effort to stem the leaking.

"What'd you do that for?" demanded Brawl. "He just asked you a question!"

"You DARE defy me!" Galvatron shrieked. "I gave you orders that no one was to leave the base, and you seek to disobey me over the most trivial matters! Traitors!"

"I'd hardly call running out of vital supplies trivial," Blast Off retorted. "Sir, we have no more energon, and we're desperately low on other supplies – spare parts, oil, lubricants, cybertonium, and virtually everything else. If you don't lift the lockdown and let us go on a supply run, we'll all shut down for good."

"Galvatron has given explicit orders," Cyclonus stated in a cold voice. "You would do well to see the wisdom in his choices and obey him."

"Wisdom?" Swindle demanded, looking up to glare at the jetformer. "How is it wisdom to sit here and starve? Galvatron's orders are going to kill us all!"

"You aren't going anywhere!" Galvatron snarled. "My soldiers will NOT desert me! Not now, not ever! If soldiers shut down because they can't handle going without for a while, then they didn't deserve to live in the first place! Get out of my sight before I vaporize the whole lot of you!"

Swindle glared at the violet Decepticon, his entire body shuddering with hatred. Suddenly Glory's attempt to kill Cyclonus and oust Galvatron from the throne didn't seem so ludicrous. Slag, if he thought he were a quick enough shot he would have pulled his weapon and tried to take out both these mechs right now. They were both mad, and would sentence their troops to death just to satisfy their own egos.

"Swindle." Onslaught's voice gurgled ominously, a sign that fluids had leaked into his throat tubing. His leader's grip tightened on his arm, breaking through his rage. The jeepformer shook his head to clear it and bent down to cap off the ruptured fuel lines.

"Blast Off, Brawl, Vortex, help me carry him outta here," he ordered. "Let's get him to the medbay quick."

The others didn't reply, but they didn't show signs of wanting to complain as they stooped to carry their leader out of the throne room. Swindle worked as best he could while they walked, clipping leaking tubes and sealing off wires to ensure Onslaught made it to the medbay. It was a bad injury, but at least it wouldn't immediately kill him. Whether they had the parts to completely mend such a wound was another story entirely.

 _Why didn't we leave when we had a chance?_ he thought darkly. _Slag, we could have left the minute we found out about Beta Geode! Or we could have gone with Glory when she left. We could have had a chance…_

At least Glory was safe, he figured. That was a rather small comfort right now, especially since his own deactivation was practically staring him in the face right now. But at the very least, he'd managed to keep his personal promise to look after the kid. She was somewhere safe now, and even if the rest of the Decepticons were doomed, she had something of a future to look forward to.

That didn't make him feel much better about his own impending demise, though. Or that of his teammates. Sighing deeply, he pulled out his tools as the others set Onslaught down on the berth. Maybe it was stupid to fix his leader just so he could look forward to a few more weeks of misery before finally offlining from lack of energy, but what else could he do?

He had just opened up Onslaught's abdominal panel to get a better look at his internal components when the base alarms went off.

"What the frag?" Vortex yipped, jumping in place. "A fight? Now of all times?"

"Brawl, go outside and see what's going on," Blast Off ordered. "Or if you can't get out, at least look out a window."

"Who made you the boss?" Brawl grumbled, but bolted out.

"It's the Autobots, isn't it?" Onslaught groaned, raising his head just slightly. "Of course, they would attack us when we're at our weakest. I wouldn't be surprised if they've had spies here all along, just waiting for us to weaken to the point where they could easily wipe us out."

"No more Dead-End talk," Swindle ordered. "And don't talk. Focus your energy on your self-repair systems-"

Brawl skidded back into the room, visor bright with excitement. "It's an attack!"

"We know that, moron!" Vortex snapped. "Why're you so fraggin' happy about it?"

"'Cause it's not Autobots!" Brawl replied, waving his arms around in a frenzy of glee. "It's Decepticons! Whole fleet of them!"

"That's supposed to make it better?" Blast Off demanded.

Swindle, however, perked up. Decepticons closing in on the base… had one of the outposts finally gotten word of what was going on here? And had they decided to take matters into their own hands? He tried to suppress the flare of excitement in his spark. It was too much to hope for, to think that a rescue of sorts was on its way…

"You should see it!" Brawl gushed. "There's a slagload of beastformers with 'em, dunno why, but there's jets and stuff too! And Blitzwing's with 'em! And Shockwave! And the kid!"

Swindle's jaw dropped, and his spark blazed with shock and wonder. "The kid? Are you sure?"

"How many bright purple Seekers do you know?" Brawl retorted. "Slag yeah, it's the kid. She's got a lot of gears, showin' her faceplate again when Galvy's fragged off at her…"

Swindle's hands trembled, and he forced himself to hold still before he bungled Onslaught's repairs. Glory had found her way to Beta Geode… and she had not only returned, she had brought reinforcements. It seemed she was about to try to make good on her promise to force Galvatron from the throne. He could only hope she wouldn't get herself killed fulfilling it.

* * *

As the combined forces of Shockwave and Deszaras swooped down to surround the Chaar base, Glory couldn't suppress a tremor of anticipation and dread. This was it… this was their all-or-nothing strike against Galvatron. If they succeeded, they could save their kind. If they failed… well, it wouldn't be pretty for anyone involved. She just hoped that they could do this with minimal oilshed, and that she wouldn't be forced to fire on her friends during the course of the battle.

Deszaras flew at the head of the strike force, as if he were the rightful commander and not Shockwave. The Destron Emperor had made good on his word, bringing nearly every fighting mech under his command to aid in the battle. He had even volunteered the services of one of his troops, a femme named Lyzack, to stay behind on Harrow and watch over the sparklings until the fighting had ended. The femme had seemed a bit put out at having to miss out on the battle, but she didn't complain about the assignment.

Glory hoped Swift was all right… and she vowed that she would do everything in her power to return to her. Her friends were the reason she fought this battle, but Swift and Blitzwing were the reason she needed to survive it. She had something to lose now, loved ones she knew would suffer if anything happened to her, and that thought terrified her in a way even death couldn't.

 _This is how your uncle felt every time he flew out on a raid or strike,_ she thought. _No wonder he wanted to keep you away from the war. He didn't want you going through this…_

Shockwave's voice over the radio broke into her thoughts. _Close up formation. Surround the base. The objective is to eliminate Galvatron and any who support him, not to wipe out the base. Doubtless fear of Galvatron will motivate many of them to fight against us, but should any wish to surrender to us, allow them to do so._

 _Even Cyclonus?_ Blitzwing asked.

_Even Cyclonus, though I doubt he will betray his commander in such a fashion. Watch for the Sweeps, and for the combiner teams – they will be our greatest challenge._

_Copy, sir,_ Glory replied, struggling to keep her anxiety under control. _Orders regarding Galvatron himself?_

_I want only our strongest soldiers engaging him – Deszaras, Leozack, Blitzwing, Beatbox, Spinister, or myself. Despite his insanity, he is not one to be underestimated._

Before he could deliver any more orders, the main entrance to the base opened, letting a familiar violet mech pass through. The anxiety in her spark curdled to hatred as Cyclonus stormed out, glaring up at the encroaching forces with indignant rage burning in his optics. Galvatron might be the ultimate objective of this fight… but it was Cyclonus whom Glory truly hated, Cyclonus that she most wanted to see gone. Galvatron might be insane and cruel, but he would have been quickly eliminated and replaced if it weren't for his second-in-command. The Air Commander was the true power behind the throne… and Glory couldn't forgive him for what he'd done to her and to her friends.

"Treasonous scrap," Cyclonus sneered, "I am here with an ultimatum from Galvatron. He demands you surrender immediately. If you comply, you will be allowed to live."

Her entire neural net burned with anger. This mech had the audacity to assume any of them wanted to return to servitude under Galvatron's reign?

"I, Emperor Deszaras, bow to no one!" Deszaras roared in return. "Least of all that lunatic you call a leader!"

"We reject your demands for surrender," Shockwave called out, his voice calmer but still firm. "And we make the same offer to you and the rest of the Decepticons. If they will lay down their weapons and offer no resistance, they may join our side. Any who refuse, and continue to serve alongside Galvatron, will be destroyed."

Cyclonus glowered up at the violet gunformer. "So be it… traitor." And he raised his voice. "Decepticons, attack!"

Glory had expected little resistance from the Chaar base – either the Decepticons would be reluctant to fight their comrades, or they would be too under-energized to put up a fight. She certainly hadn't expected fire to come directly from the base itself . A blast streaked by her, scorching the paint on her right side and obliterating the Destron who had been hovering beside her. Their forces scattered in shock as the fire continued, breaking up the formation and dropping several Destrons and Decepticons from the sky.

 _That came from the gun turrets!_ she realized, diving to escape a particularly close blast. _I thought we shut them down months ago! It took too much energy to keep them online all the time… unless Galvatron's been rerouting energy to them all this time. That would explain why energon supplies were always so low…_

A flash of blue caught her optic, and she twisted around to find a Sweep closing in on Stormrunner. She opened fire, catching the ungainly airship in the thrusters, and the flier jolted in midair as something exploded in his engines. He dropped like a rock, cursing the whole way down.

"Thanks," Stormrunner said gratefully.

"Anytime," she replied, and gunned her engines, aiming to get above the fighting so she could get a better look at the battlefield and see where she was needed most.

It was bedlam. The blasts from the gun turrets had caused chaos, breaking up Shockwave's formation and catching them all off-guard. Now Sweeps filled the air, dozens of them firing and clawing at their flying forces, others diving to harry the ground forces. So many… she never realized just how many mechs Scourge had under his command. Unless Blitzwing was right and they could replicate themselves like Insecticons, in which case the only way to end this once and for all was to eliminate every last one of the bat-winged fliers.

The Sweeps weren't their only source of trouble, though – two combiner teams had joined in the fray. Predaking stood by the base as if to guard it, swatting at any flier who dared venture too close. Menasor was out in the thick of things, howling in rage as he stomped and kicked, looking for all the world like an overgrown sparkling throwing the mother of all temper tantrums. It would have been comical had it not also been so terrifying.

Stinging pain seared through her neural net, and she transformed and whirled to fire at her attacker. Thrust's optics flashed when he realized whom he had just attacked, and he hesitated, confusion clouding his faceplate.

"Thrust!" she exclaimed. "Thrust, you don't have to do this!"

"What the frag are you doin' here, kid?" Thrust demanded. "Thought you were dead!"

"Never mind that! Thrust, I know you don't like Galvatron. You don't have to fight for him – you can join us!"

"Are you slaggin' crazy? I join you guys, Galvatron kills me!"

"Not if we win."

"You really think you're gonna win? Galvatron's got two gestalts and who knows how many Sweeps, and Scourge keeps makin' more even as we speak! He's not gonna lose this fight, and I'd rather be on the winning side!"

She wanted to scream in frustration. "You can't honestly WANT to fight for him! Please… help us. We may not have Menasor or Predaking, but if we have you on our side, we just might stand a chance."

Thrust snorted. "You talk like I'm the most powerful Decepticon on the planet. What's one Seeker gonna do against Galvatron?"

"You never know," she replied. "Sometimes it just takes a little extra weight to tip the scale… and maybe one mech can mean all the difference today."

He seemed to ponder that a moment. Finally, he gave a grudging nod. "If we don't win this thing, I'm takin' it outta your plating, kid."

Good enough for her. "Think Dirge and Ramjet will side with us too?"

"Those idiots usually do what I tell them to, yeah. Why?"

"Good. What are the chances of convincing Predaking to join our side?"

"Not good. While you were gone Razorclaw decided he and his team were better off being Galvatron's underlings than anything else, and they've been bending over backwards to get in his good graces. Galvatron's not exactly nice to 'em, but he still trusts them over most other 'Cons."

She sighed. Curse the Predacon leader – he'd chosen to follow the path of least resistance, even if it was to the detriment of the Decepticons as a whole. "Where're the others?"

"Soundwave's in the command center with Galvatron, workin' the base guns under pain of messy deactivation. The Combaticons are hiding out in the med center, and the Constructicons… who knows? Ain't seen the other four since Hook and Scrapper got thrown in the brig."

She wanted to ask why Galvatron wasn't joining the fight, or why Swindle and his team were in the med center to begin with, but there wasn't time for that. "Report to Shockwave and tell him you and your trine are changing sides. He'll give you further orders. I'm going to go try to talk some sense into the Stunts."

Thrust sputtered. "You really ARE crazy, kid! Might as well try to talk sense into Galvatron while you're at it! If there's anyone here nuttier than Galvatron, it's Menasor!"

"I have to try to reach him!" she insisted. "My friends are in there, and I won't see them hurt." She had never interacted with Menasor before, and the very thought of being around the gestalt during his berserk rage terrified her. But somewhere in the towering mech's combined CPU were the mechs she regarded as friends, almost as brothers, and she knew she had to get them to join their side somehow.

"Your funeral, kid," Thrust told her, and he veered away.

Glory drew a deep intake of air, then transformed and made her way toward the rampaging gestalt. Two Sweeps moved to intercept her, and she twisted sideways to dart between them. One transformed and made a grab for her, but missed and ended up clawing his comrade's wings, resulting in a rather brutal fistfight between the two while she made her escape.

A fist the size of a human house filled her vision, and she barely evaded in time. The wake of the fist's passing sent her spinning, and by the time she'd righted herself Menasor had his arm cocked back, ready to throw another punch. His faceplate was contorted in blind rage, battle lust painted all over his features, and for a moment she felt nothing but terror. Was there any hope of reasoning with the gestalt? Was Thrust right, and trying to get through his combined CPU was nothing short of suicidal?

But something flickered in his optics even as she hesitated – recognition. The giant paused for a moment, confusion breaking through the rage for just a moment. She pushed away her fear and pressed her advantage.

"Motormaster, it's me!" she called out. "It's Glory!"

The rage took over again, and Menasor snarled. "Menasor SMASH!"

Glory dove, the fist aimed for her whooshing by overhead. "Motormaster! Dragstrip! Dead End! I know you're in there! Wildrider, Breakdown, I know you can hear me! Please… please, you have to stop this! Disengage the combination!"

The gestalt bellowed like an animal, swatting at Glory again. She flew in circles over his head, trying to evade his hands as he flailed angrily at her.

"Disengage the combination!" she ordered. "Break up the gestalt! This is what Galvatron wants you to do! You don't have to do what he says!"

Menasor roared again, and this time his roar was tinged with pain. He clamped his hands to his helm, screaming as the multiple minds within his CPU grappled with each other. She could only wonder at what was going on in the gestalt's processor… had she managed to reach at least one of the Stunticons? Were they fighting each other, some wanting to side with her and others insisting on doing as Galvatron commanded?

"You can do this!" she insisted. "You know me… you don't want to hurt me. You can fight with me, and help the Decepticons!"

"Stop… talking!" Menasor bellowed. "Menasor confused! Head hurts!"

"I know… I know and I'm sorry. But it'll stop hurting if you just break up the gestalt!" She transformed and hovered before him, holding out an imploring hand. "You can do this."

Menasor gave one last roar of pain and anger and lashed out, his palm slapping her away as if she were an insect. She tumbled head-over-thrusters through the air, struggling to regain control, desperately hoping she wouldn't collide with someone in midair. Dimly she could hear the whine of plasma fire, the impact of fists on metal, the continued roars of Menasor as he fought the chaos in his CPU...

Finally she was able to control her fall, and she dizzily tried to regain her bearings. Her damage readout registered injuries to her left wing and armgun from the blow, and the shoulder on that side felt loose and slow to respond. Not as bad as it could have been, considering she'd just been hit by a combiner…

"You again."

She turned around in midair… and felt her pump nearly freeze. Cyclonus hovered behind her, a pistol trained on her, a smug grin on his faceplate.

"The traitor returns," he noted. "The one who masterminded my assassination attempt. I knew Hook couldn't have acted alone… and that your little collision couldn't have been a mere accident."

Cold fear and searing anger warred within her, and it was all she could do to keep her voice steady. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing he didn't deserve. You, however… you deserve far worse." His finger tightened on the trigger. "Surrender, and I can at least ensure your death is painless. Give me any difficulty, and Galvatron decides your fate. And he is not as merciful as I am."


	23. Showdown

Swindle had never worked a repair so fast in his life. Normally he liked to take his time with any sort of medical procedure – despite having the training, he didn't do enough repair work on a regular basis to keep in practice, and he liked to be careful. Botching any sort of job was bad for business, and even if he didn't get directly paid for his repair work, he still wanted to keep in the Decepticons' good graces.

But the news that Shockwave had arrived with reinforcements to overthrow Galvatron – and that Glory was among said reinforcements – spurred him to hurry as nothing else could. His digits seemed to fly over his leader's chassis as they sealed tubing, reattached wires, and replaced charred components with used but still workable ones. The sooner he could get Onslaught off the operating berth, the sooner they could go out on the battlefield and help Shockwave's revolution… and the sooner they could get the madmech off the Decepticon throne.

"Done!" he announced at last, slapping the last panel closed. "You're gonna need a paint touch-up and your power levels are gonna be low until I can get a new catalytic converter in you, but at least you'll function."

"Excellent." Onslaught pushed himself upright, wincing slightly as the fresh repairs made themselves known. "Combaticons, prepare to move out. We join Shockwave in his fight."

"About fraggin' time," Vortex muttered. "If I'da known shooting you in the fuel tanks is what it took to knock some sense into you I'da done it a long time ago."

"Enough out of you," Onslaught snapped. "Arm yourselves and follow me. We'll seize the control room while Shockwave keeps Galvatron distracted."

"What about Soundwave?" demanded Blast Off. "For all we know, he's Galvatron's dog now."

"We deal with Soundwave when the time comes," Onslaught replied, and strode out of the repair bay. Swindle thought he detected a limp in their leader's stride, but Onslaught wasn't complaining about it, so he tried not to worry too much about it.

The sounds of pitched battle rocked the base as they made their way to the control center – the whine of engines and thrusters, the muffled booms of explosions, the sharp crack of the base's gun turrets opening fire at an incoming enemy. Occasionally the floor would vibrate under their feet as a gestalt wandered too close to the base, and once a horrific crash shook the corridor they were in and nearly knocked them off their feet. Only when the sound wasn't followed up by a massive foot or an invading strike force did they continue on.

"Sounds like Predaking or Menasor put a foot through the wall," Brawl noted. "My credits're on Menasor. Dude's a klutz."

"Maybe we should be outside," Swindle ventured. "Bruticus could take out Predaking and maybe get Menasor under control. And with Devastator out of commission…"

"We take the control room," Onslaught interrupted. "If we can secure the base, we can keep Galvatron and Cyclonus from re-entering and holing themselves up for the duration of the battle. However prepared Shockwave is for this fight, I doubt he came expecting a siege."

Swindle frowned but didn't argue. Onslaught had a point there. Didn't mean he had to like it.

The doors to the control room were shut, but even through them they could hear an all-too-familiar voice shrieking in rage. Swindle fought the urge to curse loudly. Why the frag was Galvatron inside the base right now? He should be out there fighting, not inside hassling Soundwave and making their plan all the more difficult. Why couldn't things ever be simple for once?

"Shoot down their fliers!" Galvatron railed. "Blast you, Soundwave, can't you aim the gun turrets correctly? You're more useless than the Combaticons!"

Brawl bristled visibly.

"Aerial targets: too small," Soundwave replied, and even through his usual monotone Swindle thought he detected a hint of exasperation. "Targeting cannot lock onto them. Best option: ground strafing."

"I didn't order you to strafe the ground forces, you imbecile!" Galvatron thundered. "Take out the fliers! Shoot those traitors out of the sky!"

"As you command, Lord Galvatron." Only Soundwave could manage to sound so calm and yet so sarcastic at the same time.

"What's happening?" Galvatron demanded. "There are still just as many enemy targets as before. Why aren't my troops routing the invasion?"

"Troops underenergized and undersupplied for battle. Advantage: Shockwave's. Recommendation: surrender."

There was a horrific clang as a fist impacted against a metallic chassis, then a shriek and a thud, as if a small mechanism had been flung across the room. Then a blast of mental energy nearly flattened the Combaticons, sending them reeling against the corridor walls. Soundwave was well and truly angry now, enough to have lost control over his telepathic abilities for a brief moment, and every mech still in the base must be mentally feeling his wrath by this point.

If Galvatron maintained enough control over his mental facilities to feel the cassette-carrier's rage, he gave no sign. "If I want something done right, it seems I have to do it myself! Keep firing, Soundwave!"

Onslaught gestured sharply, and the Combaticons scattered, ducking into side corridors. Swindle barely managed to slip into an empty supply closet and shut the door most of the way before Galvatron stormed out of the command center, helm blazing with so much excess energy that he looked like a handheld sparkler. Soundwave might be enraged at the treatment of his cassettes, but Galvatron's anger practically radiated from him in waves, amplified by his insanity and turning him into a ticking bomb. Swindle didn't envy whomever the mech would come across first on the battlefield.

Galvatron paused abruptly, rage clearing from his faceplate and the sparks about his helm fading until he looked almost sane for a moment. Swindle held his fans, sure that the warlord had heard him or one of his comrades and realized what they were up to. For a wild moment he briefly considered leaping out to attack the mech, banking on his comrades realizing this was the perfect moment for an ambush and rushing in to help, but he restrained himself. He had no guarantee that his teammates wouldn't just let Galvatron offline him, and he knew he couldn't take the mech by himself.

Finally Galvatron shuddered as a fresh burst of sparks danced about his helm, and he stalked off with an angry mutter. Only then did Swindle allow his air cycles to continue.

"We coulda taken him," Brawl grumbled, stepping out of the shadows of a nearby corridor. "Five against one – he woulda been scrap."

"That would have been suicide," Onslaught replied. "You saw his sanity return as he stood there. And as dangerous as Galvatron is when he's in one of his rages, he's even more deadly when he's in his right mind. He would have killed us all."

"You five gonna just stand out there runnin' your vocalizers?" Rumble grumped from just inside the control room. "Or are ya gonna come in?"

Onslaught strode into the control room, Swindle and the others falling into step behind. Rumble and Frenzy were perched on the console, watching a screen depicting the unfolding battle outside, while Soundwave was on the far end of the room checking Ravage over for injuries. The cassette-panther looked a little dented but largely unhurt, but Soundwave seemed intent on giving him a thorough examination anyhow, much to the cat's chagrin. Soundwave himself sported a neat row of knuckle prints in his mask, but seemed oblivious to the dents.

"The Combaticons are taking over the control room," the Combaticon leader announced without further preamble, pulling his gun and leveling it at the tape deck. "It is in your best interests, Soundwave, to surrender yourself and your cassettes now."

Soundwave took his own sweet time in responding, giving Ravage one final inspection before rising to his feet and turning to face the missile truck. "Surrender: unnecessary. Alternative course of action: cooperation."

Onslaught's visor flickered in a slight blink. "I was under the impression that you were loyal to Galvatron. This is something of a surprise."

Soundwave gave a little snort. "Galvatron: unstable and inept. Unsuitable to lead Decepticons. Removal from leadership: necessary."

"Then you have no desire to stop Shockwave's takeover?"

Despite his face being concealed, Soundwave seemed to be smiling wryly. "Shockwave: ally. Planning for this attack has been underway for orns. Everything save base lockdown has gone according to plan."

Swindle stared at the communications officer for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing. "Wow… and here we thought you were Galvatron's stooge. Nice to be proven wrong."

"So you're not gonna stop us from taking over?" asked Brawl, who seemed to be having trouble processing Soundwave's statement.

Soundwave shook his head. "Once Galvatron has left base, will shut down gun turrets. Combaticons: prevent Galvatron from re-entering control room."

Onslaught nodded. "We can handle that. Combaticons, cover all entrances to the control room. Terminate any mech who seeks to enter unless Soundwave says otherwise."

"Stick us with the boring job when there's a battle going on outside, why don't ya," Vortex grumbled, but headed for the other door to the control room, grabbing Blast Off's arm and dragging him with him.

Swindle waited until the others had gone to guard the doors before turning to Soundwave. "You helped the kid, didn't you? You gave her coordinates to Beta Geode."

Soundwave stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment before nodding. "Chaar no longer safe. Glory: ally to our cause. Safer on Beta Geode."

"Did you talk her into trying to off Cyclonus?" he demanded suspiciously.

"Plot to assassinate Cyclonus: Glory's own doing. Simply kept optic on proceedings, and arranged her departure when plan failed."

Somehow that made his spark twinge a little in disappointment – it would have been so much easier if he could have blamed Soundwave for putting ideas in Glory's CPU. Irrational, but true. "Permission to leave and go help on the battlefield. The others have got the doors covered…"

"Denied. Combaticons needed here."

"Good mechs are dying out there!" he protested. "Galvatron'll sacrifice every last one of us in battle before he even thinks about surrendering! And who knows how many mechs Shockwave could lose in the fight…" Including the kid, he wanted to add, but he held his vocalizer.

Whether Soundwave had read his thoughts or simply guessed what he was going to say next, Swindle wasn't sure. "Glory is no longer a sparkling. Can handle herself. Advice: have faith in her." He said that last in an unexpectedly soft voice, as if trying to reassure the Combaticon. "Return to your post. Cannot afford recapture of control room at this time."

"We can't afford to lose any of our mechs either," Swindle retorted. "Not with the Autobots in control of Cybertron and Vector Sigma still. Galvatron's got two combiner teams on his side, which already puts us at a disadvantage no matter how many extra troops Shockwave's got. We need Bruticus out there! Especially with Devastator out of commission!"

Soundwave cocked his head in consideration. Then he turned to the cassettes. "Ravage, depart. Operation: Jailbreak. Release Hook and Scrapper from brig. Rumble, Frenzy, go with him. Operation: find remainder of Constructicons. All other cassettes: guard ventilation system." He waited a moment for the cassettes to hurry off to carry out his orders, then turned back to Swindle. "Satisfied?"

Swindle wanted to say no, but he had to admit that while it would have been much better in his CPU if he could have gone out onto the battlefield himself, Devastator going out there to take on Predaking and Menasor was better than nothing. "I guess…"

"Then return to your post," Onslaught snapped, and with a wince Swindle realized he'd been listening in on the conversation. "At the moment, securing the base is of greater worth to Shockwave than another soldier on the battlefield."

Swindle wanted to argue, but Soundwave was already turning back to the console to watch the battle play out. With an irritated sigh he headed to the main door to join Onslaught in his vigil. Primus, he just hoped the kid was going to be okay. Adult or not, she was still so young, and could make any number of stupid mistakes out there. Hopefully she at least had the good sense to stay far away from Galvatron and Cyclonus, and only tackle foes she knew were within her ability to defeat.

* * *

This moment had been coming for a long time, Glory realized even as she stared down the barrel of Cyclonus' gun. Ever since that fateful day three years ago when she had first realized the depth of her hatred toward the lavender mech, she knew that one of them would someday be holding the life of the other in their hands. She had rather hoped it would be the other way around, though, that she would have Cyclonus at the end of her armguns or blades.

Now she could only hope it wasn't too late to switch their positions… and finally ensure that this mech paid for all he had done to her and her friends.

"You're trying my patience, Seeker," Cyclonus snarled, his optics glinting with a deadly light. "Do you surrender or not?"

Glory took in a deep intake of air before replying. "I'm a Decepticon… a TRUE Decepticon. We don't surrender. You should know that if you had a single line of true Decepticon programming in your systems."

Cyclonus narrowed his optics in hatred. "So be it… traitor." And he fired.

Even as the lavender mech had been speaking, Glory had cut power to her antigravs, and she was already in freefall by the time Cyclonus pulled the trigger. A ribbon of plasma seared the air just over her head as she dropped, plummeting to the ground. Her internals clenched in sudden panic, but she held it in as best she could, spreading her arms and legs to slow her descent. She didn't have to look up to know that her escape was only temporary – she knew Cyclonus would be on her tail, diving down in the hopes of outracing gravity and intercepting her.

She shuttered her optics in concentration. It was time to put everything her uncle had ever taught her about flight to the test.

" _Just because a battle begins in the air doesn't mean it has to stay there."_ Her uncle's words to her, delivered countless times as she'd accompanied him on training flights, returned to her, his voice calm and gentle as his memory coached her. _"The best way to keep your opponent on their toes is to be unpredictable – and sometimes a controlled fall from the sky is the best way to surprise them. Don't be afraid of falling, because in most cases you can come back from a fall… and even use it to surprise or evade an enemy."_

The instant her collision-detection systems screeched a warning that she was perilously close to the ground, she flicked her antigravs back on. They didn't instantly stop her descent, but they slowed it enough to allow her to transform and kick on her thrusters. She angled upward and shot skyward, screaming past a stunned Cyclonus and making for the clouds high overhead.

She had rather hoped that Cyclonus wouldn't pull up in time and would smash himself to scrap on the rocky ground below. She couldn't be that lucky, though – the roar of engines told her he was right behind her, and no doubt had her in his sights right this moment. A blast of fire hissed past her right side, nearly scorching her wing.

 _Too close,_ she thought balefully, veering to the side to avoid further fire. _I've got to lose him somehow… if I could just ground him, maybe I could take him on. Most fliers can't fight hand-to-hand to save their lives…_

On a sudden impulse she changed her course, making for the rock formations she had so often used as an impromptu obstacle course in her practice flights. How often had Thundercracker encouraged her to make use of trees or even human buildings to hone her agility in the air, letting her cling to his back as he wove his way between redwoods or skyscrapers seemingly effortlessly, without clipping his wings or tailfins…

" _The enemy isn't always going to be polite enough to engage you in the open air, Glory. Autobot fliers aren't as skilled as we are in the air, so they make up for it by playing dirty – taking the fight close to the ground, trying to smash you to bits against a canyon wall or some squishy's office building. It's all well and good to know how to fight in the clear air, but a smart flier knows how to navigate through all obstacles, even ground-based ones."_

She turned sideways to slip through a narrow gap between two rock columns, feeling the stone scrape the very tips of her stabilizers as she passed through. She righted herself for the next obstacle, a low arch that she managed to duck through with relative ease. Despite the deadly circumstances she couldn't help but feel just a bit of pride. See if Cyclonus could manage that same trick…

Evidently he could, but not very well. Cyclonus cursed loudly as he clipped a wing going through the arch, shearing a good handspan off the tip. Emboldened at his error, she moved to weave through a series of stone pillars, slaloming back and forth. Clangs and curses sounded behind her as her opponent tried to follow, only to continue to clip and scrape himself. Maybe if she kept this up, he'd impact good and hard against one of the formations and end up crashing. She could only hope.

With a little laugh she rolled in midair, hanging upside-down as she ducked through another arch. She could almost forget they were in the middle of a battle... she could almost convince herself that this was just another practice run, another chance to stretch her wings and push her engines as hard as she could…

Almost. With a sudden start she realized she could no longer hear Cyclonus behind her. Not just the muttered expletives and strikes against the rocks had stopped – his engines had gone quiet. She had been so absorbed in her maneuvers she hadn't noticed that he'd stopped following her.

That should have been a relief… but instead it made the bottom drop out of her fuel tank.

" _The humans call it a 'gut instinct,' but we get them too – hunches, the feeling that there's danger imminent even though there's nothing obviously wrong. Don't ever ignore that when it happens. If you feel like something's wrong, you act on it, even if it turns out nothing's wrong after all. Your systems wouldn't give you a warning like that for no reason… and acting on it could save your life."_

She pulled up, narrowly avoiding a delicately spired rock formation… just as a missile impacted against the entire field of formations, shattering them beneath her. Cyclonus had given up the chase, and elected to simply take Glory out from above. The knowledge that she had come so close to being blown to dust sent a shiver through the violet Seeker.

"Had enough yet?" Cyclonus demanded. "It's not too late to give yourself up."

"Never," she snarled in reply, and turned sharply in midair to make a beeline for the battlefield. Cyclonus screeched after her, continuing to fire.

The battlefield was still chaos, but it looked as if Shockwave had managed to turn the tide in his favor. Sweeps were scattering everywhere under a heavy barrage of fire, some in pieces, and with relief Glory noted that fewer and fewer Decepticons were fighting alongside the Sweeps – they had either surrendered to Shockwave or switched sides entirely. Predaking had gone out onto the battlefield itself to boost Galvatron's forces, leaving the base unguarded, and a task force of Destrons was making their way toward it.

Even as she watched, though, Menasor intervened. The Destron team scattered as the Stunticon gestalt brought his foot down right where they had been, roaring his rage.

_No! Oh Motormaster, why do you keep fighting? I thought I was getting through to you guys…_

Another bellow ripped through the air, and a second gestalt stepped around the plateau and onto the battlefield – the green and violet hulk of Devastator. Before she could wonder for more than a second which side he was on, he charged Menasor with a snarl, punching the Stunticon combiner in the face. Menasor reeled, howling, and launched himself at the Constructicon combiner, the two going down with an earth-shaking thud. The Destrons weren't stupid – while the two titans grappled they darted for the base, blasting open the doors and making their way inside.

 _Devastator… that means Hook and Scrapper are alive!_ She wanted to cheer in relief. Whatever punishment Hook had undergone, it hadn't killed him. That was better than she had been hoping.

No time to think about that any further, though. She dove for Menasor, who had broken free from Devastator's grip and was struggling to his feet. If she played this right, maybe she could kill two Aerialbots with one missile…

Menasor grunted in confusion as she darted between his legs, then soared up toward his face, flying so close to his abdominal plates that she could have reached out to touch them had she been in robot mode. Cyclonus trailed close behind her, firing… but she twisted in midair, making less of a target of herself, and his shots instead struck Menasor in the face.

The blast couldn't have done more than sting, but it served its purpose – the gestalt howled in rage and brought a massive hand down, as if swatting a fly. Glory just barely managed to evade the blow, but Cyclonus wasn't so lucky – his entire back end was crushed under one of Menasor's fingers, his thrusters and antigravs rendered useless by the blow.

Menasor brushed the lavender mech off his stomach, leaving him to plummet to the ground, then turned to try to locate the other flying pest. He would have no luck with that – Glory had transformed and perched on one of his horns, right in his blind spot. She just hoped he wouldn't try to swat her off his head until she could do what she had to.

"Motormaster," she urged, "I know you can hear me. I know you and your team are angry right now…"

"Menasor angry!" he roared in agreement. "Menasor smash!"

"I know… but you're smashing the wrong side. I know you don't want to fight for Galvatron… but you still want to destroy things. There's a way around that."

"Huh?" The gestalt hesitated, confusion replacing rage in his optics for a moment.

"See those blue mechs out there?" she told him, indicating a cluster of Sweeps that were huddled off to the side of the battlefield, no doubt trying to form a plan of some kind. "Those are Galvatron's lackeys."

"Huh… see them."

She couldn't suppress a grin as she went airborne, hovering just beside the gestalt's head. "Get 'em."

Menasor paused, as if needing a moment to process the command. Then he gave a splitting bellow and charged, drawing his sword out of subspace. The Sweeps saw him coming and scattered, but a few moved too late and were crushed beneath one of his ponderous feet.

Predaking charged in at that moment, realizing that Menasor had defected… only to find himself facing two gestalts instead of one. Devastator stood alongside Menasor, and even as Predaking paused to take the sight in the green gestalt cracked his knuckles and gave a deadly smirk. Menasor grinned like a sparkling who'd just gotten a coveted gift and raised his sword, practically daring Predaking to attack.

Evidently, despite being outnumbered, Predaking dared – he launched himself at Menasor nonetheless, and the three gestalts erupted into an all-out brawl.

Glory allowed herself a moment to smile in triumph… a move that proved costly.

Fire erupted in her wings – first the left, then the right an instant later. The pain was so intense that she couldn't even scream, her vocalizer only releasing static. Every system in her body seemed to short out for a moment, and she dropped like a stone as her antigravs failed her. Then a third blast struck her in the small of her back, less intense but no less devastating, and moments later a jarring thud shook every strut and component in her body as she hit the ground.

Only by sheer force of will was she able to keep from blacking out. Shattering pain engulfed every sensor in her body, and every system seemed to be going haywire. Static filled her vision and audials, her damage readout sputtered with incoherent gibberish, and even her fans didn't seem to want to cooperate. She practically had to force each intake of air in, struggling to cool systems overheated with pain and panic.

Finally the pain ebbed as her sensors calmed down slightly, and gradually full awareness began to return. Sounds of the battle began to make their way through the fuzz of static in her audials, and the "snow" in her optics gradually faded out to show the rocky ground under her face. Her fans kicked in on their own, and her damage readout delivered a proper summary of her injuries – though she wasn't so sure that last was a good thing given the rather extensive list.

_Antigravs are shot… wings destroyed… internal components cracked… legs damaged… blast it all. If I can't fly and can't run…_

Footsteps crunched closer, and panic flared in her spark again. She tried to push herself to her hands and knees, but a boot-like foot planted itself on the back of her head and pinned her to the ground.

"So the traitor has returned," Galvatron sneered, a gloating smile on his faceplate. "Shockwave did me some good then – he delivered a wanted criminal right into my hands."

Cyclonus limped into her field of vision, face frozen in a scowl but his optics flashing in triumph. "I offered her a chance to surrender, and she refused me. Do with her what you will, my Lord."

"I fully intend to," Galvatron replied, raising his fusion cannon. "It's time I finished what I started all those years ago… and sent this useless pile of scrap to the same Pit I sent her bodyguard."

 _Wildfire…_ His words cut cruelly into her spark – and sent a fresh wave of rage through her chassis. Anger… anger was strength. Panic was weakness, but anger she could use.

The cables in her arm tensed, and her armblade clicked against its protective sheath as if in anticipation. She might die here and now, but she would make her last act one of defiance. And even if Galvatron survived this battle, he'd still walk with a limp afterwards, something to remember her by…

But before she could act, a tan-and-violet form smashed into Galvatron, bowling him over.

"Run!" Blitzwing shouted, struggling to pin the warlord to the ground. "Run, Glory!"

"Blitzwing!" Horror pinned her to the spot. Was he insane? Galvatron was too strong, he'd kill Blitzwing…

"Galvatron!" Cyclonus looked around wildly for his gun, but he seemed to have lost it in the fall. He was helpless to defend his leader, and that seemed to send him into a blind panic. Had circumstances been any different, she might have been absurdly pleased, but at the moment she was too terrified for Blitzwing's sake to care.

"Just run!" the triple-changer ordered one more time, glaring at Glory with a mix of irritation and fear. "Please! I'll buy you time!

Glory wanted to stay, to help Blitzwing fight the madmech. She loved him, and if anything happened to him she would never forgive herself. But she obeyed him, scrambling to her feet and running as fast as her damaged legs would allow. Every step sent a fresh wave of agony up her limbs, but she didn't let herself slow down. She had to trust that Blitzwing knew what he was doing, and that he could get out of this situation on his own. One of them had to survive this battle, and if Galvatron managed to destroy both of them, Swift would be left alone all over again.

"Miserable fool!" Galvatron snarled, and with a brutal kick he sent Blitzwing flying. "The traitors just keep coming back to throw themselves to the executioner's block today, don't they? Get the Seeker, Cyclonus! I'll handle this one."

"As you command!"

Footsteps pelted after Glory as she ran – stumbling, halting footsteps, but footsteps nonetheless. Cyclonus had taken heavy damage to his legs from Menasor's blow, and had Glory been in full repair she could have easily outrun him. But she wasn't in much better shape, and so was barely able to keep her lead.

Another alarm sounded off in her systems – a low fuel warning. Slag it all. Her internal damages were worse than she realized, and even as she ran she could feel energon leaking out from beneath her abdominal plates. If she kept running like this, she was going to risk bleeding out entirely.

"Not so brave when your wings are clipped, are you, Seeker?"

She ducked to one side just as Cyclonus lunged, and she tried to pick up her pace as the lavender mech staggered from the missed grab. Dimly she realized she was heading for the tunnels some distance from the base, where she and the cassettes used to play when she was still a sparkling. If she made it that far, perhaps she could lose him… she just hoped she could make it that far.

She almost wept with relief when she stumbled into the first tunnel that presented itself. But she didn't slow down – Cyclonus was still behind her, albeit dropping farther behind as his own injuries took their toll. She kept running, making her way to a fork in the tunnels and taking one mostly at random, hoping memory would suffice to get back to the surface… and hoping she could lose her pursuer. If she could just hold him off a little longer, perhaps his own injuries would do him in. She could only hope.

* * *

 _How did I get myself into this mess?_ Blitzwing thought angrily as he struggled to throw Galvatron off. _Usually it's Astro that's stupid enough to get into these situations. Oh, wait, I did it for Glory. Primus dammit, love does make you do crazy things._

He hadn't even been thinking when he dove to tackle Galvatron – his only thought had been to give Glory time to get away. Once she was out of sight he realized he'd pretty much grabbed a star dragon by the tail, and from there his only thought was to get the slag away from the deranged mech before he got a plasma bolt through the chassis. Galvatron was having none of that, however, and now he had the triple-changer pinned to the rocky ground, struggling to get his arms behind his back.

_Shockwave, Deszaras, now would be a REALLY good time for one of you to swing by and give me a hand! Especially since this whole thing was your idea, Shocks…_

"You fool!" Galvatron snarled. "Thinking you could take ME down! My Decepticons are completely mad as well as weak!"

"Pot, meet kettle," Blitzwing growled, and he bucked with all his strength. Galvatron went tumbling, and he scrambled to his feet. He didn't dare run, though – the violet mech had his plasma cannon aimed at him, practically pinning him to the spot.

"Stupid and crazy," Galvatron sneered. "Why else could you imagine that you have a hope of defeating me?" His optics flickered, and for a moment the anger melted from his expression, replaced with a rational calm. "Or perhaps it's something else… perhaps the femme…"

Blitzwing's jaw dropped. How had he figured it out? He'd heard Shockwave go on about how Galvatron could actually be intelligent during his rare lucid moments, but he hadn't realized the mech was THAT quick on the uptake.

"So the traitors to my cause have fallen in love!" Galvatron crowed. "How sickeningly romantic! Were the two of you that desperate? Because no one else would have had either of you!"

 _And anyone would want YOU either?_ Blitzwing thought, but he held his vocalizer.

"How touching," Galvatron went on, a wicked tilt to his smile now. "And how convenient. Perhaps I should request that Cyclonus bring the femme back alive, then. It would be a fitting punishment for your treachery to see her slowly and painfully dismantled before your optics."

Those words tripped something in Blitzwing's CPU, and suddenly the fact that there was a plasma cannon aimed at his chest didn't seem to matter all that much anymore. "Don't. You. Dare."

"I dare as much as I please!" Galvatron retorted. "And it's only fitting that for your crimes against my empire, the two of you shall be made to watch as each of you is slowly taken apart. You want to be together so badly… you can die together!"

The next few minutes were something of a haze for Blitzwing. All he knew was that one minute he was staring down the barrel of Galvatron's cannon, and the next Deszaras was practically prying him off of the Decepticon leader, grabbing for his arms to stop him from punching and gouging at the violet mech.

"Enough!"

"Frag you!" Blitzwing growled. "Where the frag is my sword? I'll take HIM apart!"

"Enough!" Deszaras snapped. "Hold still, you idiot, you're smoking worse than a gas bomb…"

Blitzwing glanced down at his chassis, noticing for the first time that there was a good-sized char mark on his torso, exposing melted circuitry and warped rib struts. Only now did the pain of it hit him, and he hissed but managed to keep to his feet.

"He dead?" he asked, looking down at the mech at his feet. Galvatron looked thoroughly dented and rather dazed, but as far as he could tell he was still online.

"Unfortunately, no," Deszaras grumbled, rolling his optics. "Shockwave wants him alive."

"What? That wasn't in the plan!"

"Circumstances have changed," Shockwave replied, striding up at that moment. "And we must adapt our plans to fit them. Cuff him." He tossed a pair of stasis cuffs at Deszaras, who snorted disdainfully but bent down to do as ordered.

"Shocks, Cyclonus and Glory took off for the tunnels," Blitzwing told him. "Permission to go after them."

"Denied. I need you to stand guard and ensure Galvatron does not escape. I will send Soundwave and Wavebreaker in your stead."

That wasn't what he wanted, but he knew better than to argue with Shockwave – the mech was as stubborn as Megatron when he wanted to be. "Why the change in plans?"

"The Autobots have been alerted to the fighting in this system," Shockwave explained. "They are sending an armed force to investigate. I highly doubt we will be in any shape to repel them… but perhaps with Galvatron as a bargaining chip, we can come to some sort of agreement."

Blitzwing sucked in an intake of air, only to wince again as his injuries reminded him they were still there. Autobots on top of everything else? Could this day get any worse?

* * *

Glory could run no farther. Her legs screamed in agony, her fuel levels were perilously low, and her systems were threatening to throw her into emergency stasis at any moment. She staggered around one last bend in the tunnel and pressed herself to the wall, dimming her optics and switching her color scheme to black. Hopefully she blended in with the shadows enough to avoid detection… and hopefully she hadn't left an energon trail behind her.

Footsteps clicked closer, and a rasping panting filled the tunnel. Cyclonus sounded badly hurt, even if he was determined not to show it any more than necessary. She slowed her fans, hoping beyond hope that he couldn't hear her, couldn't see her…

"You cannot hide forever, Seeker. You might as well come out now and save yourself further suffering."

Glory replied via her radio to keep him from tracking her by sound. _Never._

"You fool," he muttered, and with a start she realized he was right next to her hiding place. "Did you honestly think you could hide your doings from me? From Galvatron? I knew you were up to no good the moment I saw you coming at me, intent on collision. You're too good a flier to simply hit another mech in midair." The compliment came out grudgingly, as if it had to be extracted like a rusty spring. "Perhaps you hoped that Hook would be a convenient scapegoat, and you'd escape scrutiny?"

_I didn't mean to make Hook take the fall. I just wanted to make things better for the Decepticons. Even if it meant getting you and Galvatron out of the way._

"What would it accomplish to destroy us?" He was right next to her now, though by the angle of light from his optics she could tell he was looking the other way. "You would leave your precious Decepticons leaderless and in chaos, vulnerable to whatever Autobots or other forces came to destroy them." A pause. "Unless your goal was to take leadership for yourself?"

 _Everyone assumes that,_ she noted bitterly. _No, I don't want the throne. I just want what's best for our people._

A dry, humorless laugh. "If not you, then whom? Someone has to lead the Decepticons, else you would consign 'your people' to extinction. Galvatron is a strong leader, far more powerful than your pathetic Megatron or Starscream or Shockwave. If you and the rest of the Decepticons would simply subject yourselves to his will, he could lead our forces to glory and conquest. Instead you choose to fight him, and so you drag the Decepticon cause down by your own inability to accept him as a leader."

 _It's not us,_ she retorted. _It's him. It's his insane orders that have dragged us down. How can he expect us to be an effective fighting force when he sends six mechs to take down an entire Autobot base, or gives us commands only to retract them or deliver a contradictory command moments later? How can you expect us to follow a commander who sends us out on impossible missions, to our deaths?_

"It's called loyalty, Seeker," Cyclonus snarled. "Loyalty and trust. Galvatron knows what he's doing, and if you would bend your pride enough to see-"

 _He's the prideful one,_ she snapped. _He's the one who will lead us to ruin, and the both of you are too blind to see it. If you honestly think Galvatron's the best leader we could have, you're more delusional than he ever was!_

Cyclonus' lip plates curled in a savage snarl. "You forget your place, Seeker!" And he twisted around abruptly, a blade as long as his forearm in one hand and thrusting toward her spark chamber.

Glory acted purely on instinct, raising her arms and releasing the blades within. The crossed blades caught Cyclonus' short sword, staying his blow.

"If you will not accept Galvatron as your rightful ruler," he growled, "then you could at least accept your death as a traitor." He pulled the sword back, making a stab at her abdomen. She blocked again, bringing her other blade up toward his head, but he grabbed her wrist and pushed the weapon away. He stabbed forward again, this time catching her side and slashing open the metal there, and she retaliated by raking her free armblade across his face, leaving an ugly gash that exposed the delicate circuitry that controlled his faceplates.

The struggle ended in a stalemate – Cyclonus brought the sword down one more time, only for Glory to catch it on her blade. The two combatants glowered at each other, Cyclonus gripping one of her wrists and pushing at her free armblade with his own weapon. Heavy venting filled the cavern, both mechs panting with exertion and pain, and energon spattered the floor of the tunnel from their combined wounds.

"You… persist…" he hissed.

"I won't… give up…" she panted in reply. She pushed again at his weapon, hoping to knock it to the side, but he wouldn't relent.

Cyclonus' optics narrowed as he regarded her. "Stubborn and defiant to the end…" He twisted his blade, freeing it from her own, and stabbed forward again. This time she couldn't evade, and she screamed as she felt it pierce her abdominal plates, nicking her fuel tank. He yanked the weapon free and moved in for another blow, but she caught his arm in her hand, just barely staying the blow. Again they strained against each other, each trying to force their blade in for the final blow, but Glory could feel herself weakening, and in despair knew she couldn't hold for much longer… and worse, Cyclonus knew it too.

"Weak," he taunted, a wicked smirk on his faceplates. "Pathetic. You were useless to us as a sparkling, a drain on our resources, but even in this form you're outdated and inferior. Just as Thundercracker was an inferior model, too weak to stop his own death."

Anger blazed through her, searing through the pain. She tried to open her mouth to retort, but fluid welled up through her throat tubing and choked off any reply.

"Oh yes," he went on, a cruel smile on his face. "I know your past, Glory. I've read your records, and heard how you praise him. You set the Seekers of the past on a pedestal and hail them as heroes, the best of the Decepticons… and your caretaker most of all. You're too blinded by your own devotion to him to see just how weak he was, how much of a coward. How he nearly deserted your precious Decepticon cause to save his own plating, how he hung back in battle and let his trinemates do the dirty work for him, how he plotted against Starscream to let him take the fall for his own failure. Your uncle is not the hero you believe him to be, but a traitor and a coward… and if it was your desire to shape yourself in his image, then it seems you're well on the right track."

His words rang in her audials, stoking the anger to a roaring rage. How dare he? How DARE he? He knew nothing of her uncle, nothing of his courage on the battlefield, his willingness to sacrifice himself to protect those he cared for. What did this madmech know of Thundercracker anyhow? And how dare he insult him and spit on his memory?

"Perhaps this is a sign," Cyclonus added. "A sign that Galvatron's forces aren't incompetent by choice, but by design. Perhaps it's time we eradicated the outdated among us and started fresh. Starting with one treacherous, upstart Seeker." And he gave one final push forward, aiming to wrench his arm free of her grip and impale her.

She twisted to the side, releasing his wrist and letting the blade slide past her. Before he could pull the weapon back and try again, she thrust her free hand forward, slamming her blade into his chest just below the spark chamber.

Cyclonus' optics flared in shock, and his mouth dropped open in a soundless scream. His faceplates, still ripped apart from her earlier slash, contorted in an expression of stunned anger, as if he couldn't believe that she had just landed a blow. He released her other wrist and grabbed for her neck, tightening his grip in an effort to crush the vital cables and fuel lines there.

That was his fatal error. With a strangled cry she drove her other armblade into his shoulder, aiming right for the joint and twisting. She could feel cables separate within the armored joint, and the hand around her neck spasmed once before going limp.

Cyclonus stumbled back, one arm hanging uselessly at his side, the other dropping the sword and fumbling for another weapon. She closed the gap between them with another scream, slashing her arm blades. He staggered back further, his good hand now missing a few fingers, long gashes opening in his armor. Fear glittered in his optics now – fear for his own life, for perhaps the first time since he'd come online.

A haze seemed to fall over her vision even as she charged him again, her arms moving almost independent of her processor as they slammed her armblades into Cyclonus again and again. The roaring anger filled her audials, clouded her optics, seared through her sensor net and drowned out all rational thought. She felt the impact of her armblades against the chassis suddenly beneath her, felt energon and other fluids spattering her arms and chest, felt the pain of her own injuries as a vague burning sensation in the back of her mind…

"Glory."

Hands grabbed her from behind, pulling her back. She struggled against their grip, trying to snarl in anger but instead choking on the energon that flooded her fuel intake. She almost stabbed behind her before her captor spoke again.

"Further struggle: inadvisable. Damages: severe. Further activity will exacerbate injuries."

The anger drained away like molten metal from a cracked crucible, and only then did she realize how utterly exhausted she was. Her systems screamed in pain, her damage readout blaring what seemed to be an endless list of injuries and her energy levels dangerously low. It seemed to take all her strength to turn her head enough to make optic contact with Soundwave.

"H-how…" That was all she got out before falling into another coughing fit.

"Don't try to talk." Wavebreaker rushed down the tunnel, carrying an emergency light unit in one hand, his other hand retracted to reveal a hook-shaped weapon. "Aw, Primus, kid… you all right? No, you're not all right, a drone could see that… Primus slaggit, Stormrunner's gonna kill me when she sees you like this…"

"Immediate medical attention: required," Soundwave informed him. "Find Swindle or Hook immediately."

"Yessir!" Wavebreaker moved to salute, found neither hand was in much of a position for the gesture, and gave up and bolted from the tunnel.

Darkness started to slide over her vision, but she fought it off as best she could. She wanted nothing more than to fall offline, to let the pain and exhaustion fade away, but her CPU wouldn't let her. They were still in danger here… Cyclonus must have run off by now, he could be lurking anywhere in these tunnels…

"Hold still," Soundwave ordered.

"C-Cyclonus…" she groaned. "G-got to…" Her vocalizer failed her at that moment.

Soundwave lifted her in his arms. "Cyclonus: deactivated."

She refused to believe him. Cyclonus was too strong, he couldn't be dead… this had to be a joke…

Her head fell to one side, and she caught a glimpse of Galvatron's lieutenant. The mech was sprawled on the tunnel floor, faceplates still contorted in shock, lavender plating slowly darkening to gray. She could only look for a few moments at his chassis, covered in fluids and its plating ripped to shreds, before shuddering and looking away.

"Medics on their way." Was he trying to be reassuring, or just stating a fact? It was so hard to tell with him.

She wanted to ask him more – how was the battle outside faring, was Blitzwing okay, where was Galvatron – but she couldn't get the words out. The tape deck seemed to pick up her unspoken questions, however, and she swore she saw his face soften behind the mask.

"Battle: almost over. Galvatron: captured and in custody. Scourge: surrendered and in custody. Blitzwing: functional. Damaged but stable."

Relief flooded her, and as if that were all the permission her tired body needed, she slipped offline. She was deeply in recharge before Soundwave carried her out of the tunnel.


	24. Negotiation

_Polyhex looked mostly as Glory remembered it from her sparkling-hood – a sprawl of metropolis, illuminated here and there with the lights of factories and laboratories, with a fringe of towers and skyscrapers ringing it like points on a crown. But this wasn't the same cityscape her mother had shown her, flying her up to a balcony to give her a better view of their home. This was a Polyhex untouched by the ravages of the war, ruined buildings somehow rebuilt and standing once again, missile craters in the streets smoothed over. It was a city made whole, healed from the bitter conflict that had torn Cybertron apart._

_Was she looking on the Polyhex of the past? Or perhaps this was the Polyhex of the future, once again occupied by the Decepticons and rebuilt by their hands instead of razed and paved over by the Autobots. She couldn't tell…_

" _Mind if I have a seat?"_

" _Sure," she said without thinking, sliding over to make room on the ledge for the newcomer. Then she got a better look… and thought her fuel pump would freeze in her chest._

_Thundercracker smiled a little. "Miss me?"_

_Those words were an incredible understatement – seeing him again made her spark ache with longing. Even if this was nothing more than a dream, just seeing his face and hearing his voice again filled her with a blazing joy. It had been so long, and she had missed him so much... even seeing him in her recharge cycles was nothing short of a miracle, in her mind._

" _Is… is it really you?" she murmured. "Not some pretender wearing your face?" As much as she wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him tightly, the memory of her nightmare, of Unicron taking on Thundercracker's image to seize her, still haunted the back of her CPU._

_He laughed and shook his head. "This isn't a nightmare, Glory. It's really me." He held his arms open for her. "It's gonna be okay."_

_She sobbed and fell against him, burying her face in his chest. For a long moment she just lay against him and cried, letting years of emotion finally spill out._

" _Shh, it's okay," he said soothingly, holding and comforting her as if she were a child again. "I've got you."_

" _I never got to say goodbye," she choked. "Not to you or any of the others… I missed you so much…"_

" _Aw, Glory," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful… but there's no changing the past, I suppose."_

_She clung to him tightly, just wanting to be close to her uncle again. He was content to hold her, patting her back, softly humming the human tune that she had come to see as their personal song. Glory almost wished she were small again so she could curl up in his arms, and just let her uncle make everything better again._

_Finally Thundercracker pulled away, holding Glory at arm's length. "Look at you… you've been upgraded. You're all grown up now. Wow."_

_She gave a delirious little laugh. "I couldn't stay little forever, you know."_

_He chuckled. "No, you couldn't, I suppose. Especially given the circumstances." He turned her slightly from side to side as if to inspect her adult chassis for flaws. "A Seeker… your mother would have been proud of you. And your grandfather." He laughed softly, then altered his voice to a gruffer, slightly higher-pitched tone. "'Seeker programming will always run in our line!'"_

" _Grandfather?" She had no memories of her grand-creator, and Thundercracker had never spoken of him, though she remembered Windblade mentioning their creator, Whirlwind, in her journal… and how he had died at the hands of the Autobots, just like so much of her family…_

_She shook her head, willing those memories away. She didn't want to think about that right now. She just wanted to focus on her uncle. There was so much she wanted to say, to share, to ask… would she even have time?_

" _Are you proud of me?" she blurted. "Of what I've become?"_

" _How could I not be? You might not be my creation, but you're family. I love you regardless of what you become."_

_She shook her head. "I don't just want a pat answer. I know you love me, but I need to know if you approve of what I've become. Of what I've done with my life, and what I did to Cyclonus, and me being with Swift and Blitzwing, and-"_

" _Glory," he interrupted, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You don't need my approval."_

" _But-"_

" _Listen, Glory. I know you want to make me proud. But you already do that. You've grown up to be a beautiful and strong femme, and you've found your own set of ideals and values that you're willing to fight for. That's more than enough to make me very proud of you." His smile took on an oddly sad cast at that. "That's a lot more than I ever did."_

_Worry flared in her spark. Thundercracker's words stirred something in her CPU that Cyclonus had said about her uncle… how he had been a coward, and nearly turned his back on the Decepticon cause. Had his words been closer to the truth than she realized?_

" _You fought for the Decepticon cause," she said at last. "Wasn't that your set of values?"_

_He sighed softly. "There's a big difference between fighting for an army or at a commander's orders, and fighting for something you believe in with your whole spark." He looked away, gaze resting on the glittering cityscape below. "I was a good soldier for Megatron, true, but my spark was never in it. I always had my doubts, that little voice in my processor asking if we were doing the right thing. But I never really acted on that. I was going through the motions, but that was it." He squeezed her hand. "The only thing I really valued enough to fight for, enough to risk my life for, was my family."_

" _That's not exactly a bad thing to fight for."_

" _I guess not. You, on the other hand…" His optics shone with pride. "You've fought for what you believed in – your friends, your people – with all your spark. And you were willing to lay down your life, if that's what it took, to save them. That alone is enough to make me very proud of you."_

_She shuttered her optics, trying to blink back tears. "Thank you."_

_He hugged her again, a little more tightly this time. "I… I have to go."_

" _No!" She tightened her own grip on him. "I don't want you to go. I just got you back… I can't lose you again."_

" _I wish I could stay with you," he said, "but I can't leave the Well. Nor can you stay here with me. You have a life to get back to, and loved ones waiting for you." He pulled back just enough to look her in the optics. "But I'll be with you in your spark. Remember that."_

_She somehow managed to smile despite the cleanser flowing down her faceplate. "I'll miss you."_

" _I know." He shuttered his own optics, trying to hold back his own emotions. "Piston and Windblade say hello, and they miss you very much."_

" _Can't I see them before you go?"_

" _Not this time. But don't you worry, little one. We'll be together soon enough… but hopefully not too soon." He squeezed her hand one more time. "I love you, Glory."_

" _I love you too, Uncle T…"_

"…Well, that was odd. For a moment I could have sworn her spark readings were at zero. Must have been a glitch in the monitor."

"I don't care about a glitch in the monitor! Just tell me if she's gonna be all right!"

"Calm yourself, Blitzwing, she'll be just fine. Look, she's coming online right now."

Glory didn't want to bring her optics online. Part of her CPU remained in the dream – or in the Well of All Sparks, perhaps – and she didn't want to leave it. She wanted to stay offline and cling to the memories as long as she could.

But the worry in Blitzwing's tone tugged at her, and she brought her optics online. She was lying on a berth in the Chaar base's repair bay, her chassis still aching vaguely from her earlier wounds despite the mostly-normal readings from her damage readout. Blitzwing sat beside her, every servo in his body taut with concern, and Hook stood on her other side, shutting a panel on her arm.

"What did I tell you?" Hook said with a note of exasperation in his voice. "I've repaired mechs in far worse condition before, so why you have no faith in my abilities now…"

"Glory!" Blitzwing stood, hands outstretched as if about to grab her, but he stayed himself just in time. "You all right, kid? Still hurting?"

"A little," she admitted, gingerly pushing herself upright. "Nothing unbearable. I'll be okay, though, you don't need to hover."

He sat back down, but never took his visor off her. "You scared the scrap outta me."

"I'm fine, really," she insisted. "How are you? I heard you got injured."

"Galvatron took a potshot at me. But I'm fine too. Takes more than a psycho ex-leader to take this triple-changer down."

"I see your ego took no permanent damage from the blast either," Hook noted dryly.

Glory turned to face the Constructicon now. "Hook… I'm sorry. Whatever happened to you after I left, I'm sorry for-"

Hook raised a hand to silence her. "We both knew what we were risking when we agreed to eliminate Cyclonus together, Glory. Neither Scrapper nor I blame you for the failure… or the ensuing punishment." His visor darkened, and for a moment he looked troubled, as if he were reliving whatever torment Galvatron had inflicted on him. But the moment passed quickly. "Now that you're online, get out of my medbay. I have a line of injured mechs forming outside, and only two berths to accommodate them."

"Primus, Hook, she just came online after almost being killed by Cyclonus," a familiar voice griped. "At least let her systems boot up fully."

Glory looked around, startled. "Steelwing?"

"Right behind you, getting some tools cleaned up," the carformer replied, walking into her line of sight. "Been giving your cheerful medic here a little hand with the repairs. How in the Pit you fellas have been putting up with such a substandard medbay all this time I don't even know."

"Galvatron had a rather skewed set of priorities," Hook replied. "And I won't have perfectly functional mechanisms taking up berths when we have a line of the injured forming outside…"

"Give her ten minutes," Steelwing countered. "No one out there's critically wounded; that much time shouldn't kill anybody."

Hook glared at her, then snorted and relented. "Fine. But I'll be timing it." And he turned to the Destron that lay stretched out on the other berth. Steelwing went to join him, and the two medics began conversing in hushed tones as they began the repairs.

Blitzwing waited until it seemed the medics weren't paying them any more attention before he leaned forward and hugged Glory. "Primus, kid… thought I was gonna lose you."

"I'm pretty hard to lose," she assured him, hugging him back. "Is what I heard true? Did we… did we really win?"

"Depends on what ya call winning, I guess," Blitzwing replied. "Cyclonus is dead and Galvatron's in custody. Most of the 'Cons are on our side now, and those that chose to stick with Galvatron are in the brig."

"Who would willingly follow Galvatron? Well, besides Cyclonus."

"Some mechs are stupid, I guess. Or figure a nutjob leader is better than none." He blew out a sigh. "There's still fights over who's going to lead the Decepticons, though. Some say Shockwave should lead, others Soundwave, and of course Astrotrain's demanding he get put in as leader…"

Glory flinched. Again, some of Cyclonus' words came back to haunt her. Had removing Galvatron from power simply created an even bigger mess?

"But that's for the mechs in charge to sort out. You just gotta focus on recovering. My orders as well as the medics'."

"Sir yes sir," she replied with a bit of a chuckle.

Blitzwing laughed. "Glory… what you did… took real gears."

"I just did what had to be done. I couldn't let Cyclonus and Galvatron hurt my friends anymore. And I couldn't let them run the Decepticons into the ground. Not when there was something I could do to stop them."

"Just don't go fraggin' off psychotic warlords anymore, all right? Don't think I could stand to lose you."

"You won't lose me," she assured him.

"Good." And he pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm gonna hold ya to that, y'know."

She shuttered her optics and leaned against him. Thundercracker hadn't told her whether he approved of her relationship with Blitzwing or not… but somehow she got the feeling that even if he hadn't, he'd be happy for her nonetheless. The two of them had come a long way together in a very brief time, and somehow the experience had only deepened their affection. He completed her in a way no other mech could.

"What in the…"

She onlined her optics to see Swindle standing in the doorway of the medbay, staring at the two of them as if they'd both just turned into Autobots on the spot. Blitzwing hurriedly ended their embrace and sat back down, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. Glory just gave Swindle an unapologetic smile.

"Hi, Swindle."

"Don't 'hi, Swindle' me, young femme!" Swindle retorted, optics glinting as he marched into the repair bay. "Do you have any idea how worried sick I've been about you? And then you come back and I find you snuggling up to the triple-changer!"

"Hey, I got a name, Swin," Blitzwing growled.

"You stay out of this," Swindle snapped. "Primus, kid… first you take off from here on a moment's notice, then you come back dragging an army and almost get your aft handed to you by Cyclonus… now you're getting cuddly with this guy? What the frag is wrong with you? Are you trying to give me a spark attack-"

Glory had hopped down from the berth while Swindle was busy ranting, and she cut him off with a tight hug. "I missed you too, Swindle."

He squirmed out of her grip. "Missed you too, Glory. You've got a LOT of explaining to do, though… I wanna know just what happened while you were gone. Who all these mechs hanging around outside are, where Blitzwing's been hiding all this time, and what made you decide he was relationship material."

She laughed. "It's a really long story. But I want to know what all happened while I was gone too. I know things couldn't have gone well-"

"There will be time for the two of you to reminisce later," Shockwave interrupted, striding into the repair bay at that moment.

"Oh, for Primus' sake," Hook grumbled. "Will everyone stop traipsing through my medbay? It's cramped enough as it is!"

"I sent Swindle here to take your place during the meeting," Shockwave explained. "Your presence is requested. I require Glory's presence as well."

Glory stared at the violet gunformer, stunned. What was he talking about?

"What meeting?" Blitzwing echoed.

"Optimus Prime and a contingent of Autobots are here in the base," Shockwave replied. "Rather than fight them in our currently weakened state, we have agreed to negotiate. And there is also the matter of the leadership to be discussed… and I believe Hook and Glory will need to be present."

* * *

When Sky Lynx had touched down, everyone had expected the fighting to erupt anew. Indeed, the Autobots had disembarked with guns out and aimed, ready to shoot at the first sign of hostilities. The only reason a firefight hadn't broken was that Shockwave had gone to meet the shuttle… and had been carrying a flag of truce. Under different leadership a fight might have commenced regardless… but the Prime evidently had little desire to actually engage the Decepticons, and was more than ready to settle things peaceably. Mechs on both sides had argued the decision, but in the end their complaints went ignored, though uneasy feelings on both sides left everyone tense and wary.

The meeting took place in what had once been Galvatron's quarters, now empty of their former leader's personal effects and serving as a temporary conference room. Being the largest room in the base aside from the throne room, it was probably the only room that would suit for the meeting. It also seemed oddly appropriate – in a way, they were reclaiming this room, and with it their base, from the mad warlord, and establishing it as firmly theirs instead of his.

Optimus Prime sat at one end of the table the Constructicons had hastily hauled in, flanked on either side by Ultra Magnus and Elita-1. Shockwave occupied the other end, Soundwave seated on his right and Deszaras looming ominously on his left. Jazz, Kup, Chromia, Silverbolt, and Hot Rod stood behind Prime's end of the table, all with guns in hand in case the Decepticons tried anything treacherous. Behind Shockwave, Hook, Motormaster, Onslaught, and Glory stood at attention, ready to add their two credits to the conversation… or defend the base should the Autobots get it in their heads to attack.

Why Glory's presence was needed here, she had no idea. But she had a feeling she was about to find out.

"I must admit," Prime said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "we weren't expecting to come here to find a coup in progress."

Shockwave's headfins flicked once, like the ears of an annoyed cat. "The situation with Galvatron had become untenable. It was only logical to depose him and instill a stronger leader."

"By means of violence?" Prime asked, tilting his head slightly.

"There was no other way," Onslaught cut in, and Glory swore he was narrowing his optics behind his visor. "You think Galvatron is one to listen to negotiations? It was revolution or death, plain and simple."

"Of course a 'Con would say that," grumbled Kup, before Chromia elbowed him into silence.

"And yet you wished to negotiate with us," Ultra Magnus pointed out with a suspicious frown. "That's not like Decepticons."

Shockwave nodded. "Perhaps negotiation is not our normal method of operations, but then, Optimus Prime is not Galvatron. He, unlike our former leader, is open to negotiation."

Prime's optics narrowed just slightly, and Glory got the feeling that he knew the real reason Shockwave wanted to strike a deal – Galvatron's reign and the battle to overthrow him had taken a huge toll on the Decepticons, and they were all exhausted, injured, and too low on resources to hope to take on the Autobots so soon after the latest fight… or at least to take them on and win. And while none of the Decepticons were thrilled about negotiating a truce with the Autobots, most agreed that it was the safest course of action until they could regain some of their former strength and numbers.

At least they weren't as sorely lacking in energy now… though the reason for that had enraged Glory all the more. While searching the base for any hidden bombs or traps, Ravage had uncovered a cache of energon cubes directly beneath Galvatron's throne. Several mechs had theorized that Galvatron had some energy source or supplier that he'd never bothered to share with the rest of the Decepticons, but Scourge had informed them that no such source or supplier had existed. Rather, Galvatron and Cyclonus had been skimming it from the Decepticons' regular sources, and stockpiling it for their own use should a shortage or siege hit the Chaar base.

The fact that Galvatron and his lieutenant had been keeping such an energy store for themselves while the rest of the Decepticons starved only deepened Glory's hatred of them, and she knew she was hardly the only mechanism in that respect. But at least finding that stockpile was a bit of good news as well. It wouldn't power the base and the mechanisms within it for long, but it would tide them over until a much-needed supply run could be made.

"With all due respect," Ultra Magnus said, "the last time we made a truce with your kind, you broke it within a quartrex. How are we to know that a second truce will be honored at all?"

"Galvatron broke the first truce for reasons we can only speculate," Shockwave replied. "I can assure you that we will not be so hasty to violate the terms of another treaty… unless the Autobots fail to uphold their end of the bargain."

"Is that a threat?" Kup demanded.

"Magnus, Kup, at ease," Prime ordered. "Shockwave makes a very good point. Galvatron's insanity made him an unpredictable force, and we should have expected any truce we made with him to end badly. Shockwave is a more logical sort, and will perhaps honor any agreement we make with him."

"A Decepticon, honor a truce?" Hot Rod snarked. "That'll be the day."

"Not like your kind's been any better about honoring treaties," Hook retorted. "Wasn't there a treaty drawn up after the Second Great War that declared sparklings were not to be made prisoners of war? And yet look what happened to OUR sparklings the moment the war was over."

"That was different!" Hot Rod snapped. "We were dealing with war orphans! And what were we supposed to do, give them to Cyclonus and let them starve?"

"Enough!" Prime shouted, ending the argument before it could go any further. "What was done has been done. We can't change the past. We can only resolve to do better in the future. You acted as you believed you should have under the circumstances, Hot Rod, even if I don't necessarily agree with it."

Hot Rod frowned, but he didn't argue.

"How are the sparklings?" asked Elita worriedly. "They weren't here when the fighting happened, were they?"

"They were taking refuge on another world during the battle," Shockwave replied. "We have mechs transporting them to Chaar as we speak. But that is beside the point."

Prime nodded. "What terms do you wish to lay down for the truce?"

"Cybertron, probably," Kup muttered.

Shockwave nodded. "Kup is half-right. We do not seek to take over the planet… but we wish to return to our homeworld."

"You'd ask that we accept our enemy among us?" Magnus asked, optics bright with disbelief.

"We would ask that you give us back what is ours," Shockwave replied firmly. "Polyhex, Kaon, Tarn, Tesaurus, Digilex, Spiralis, Vos, all the cities that were once ours. We are fully aware that the Autobots wish to raze them and build their own cities on top of them… but that is not the Autobots' decision to make. Give us back our cities, and let us return to the homeworld that is just as much ours as it is yours."

That set the Autobots off – almost as one they began protesting loudly, shouting at Shockwave and each other at his supposedly ridiculous request. The Decepticons responded by yelling back just as loudly, shouting insults back at the Autobots and trying to make their counter-arguments heard. Jazz shouted for order, but no one paid him any mind. Prime just looked pained, and Shockwave twitched one headfin in a gesture of annoyance but was silent.

Glory winced and turned her audials down a few notches. For coming together to negotiate, nobody seemed willing to actually do any negotiating.

Finally Prime ended the shouting in the most unlikely way possible – a blast of his truck horn. Elita jumped in surprise while Ultra Magnus leaned away from the Prime with his hands over his audials, but the blast had its desired effect. The conference room went quiet, though both parties were now settling for glaring at one another rather than simply arguing.

"What you ask is a rather tall order," said Prime. "Why should we allow the Decepticons back on Cybertron? It seems that would be an invitation to start the war all over again – something the Autobots don't want and the Decepticons certainly can't afford."

"Cybertron: for Cybertronians," Soundwave replied. "Not Autobots. Not Decepticons. Cybertronians. Decepticons have just as much right to homeworld as you."

"You're so fond of saying 'freedom is the right of all sentient beings,' Optimus," Onslaught added coolly. "Are Decepticons the exception? Are we denied the right to call Cybertron our home, and to reclaim and rebuild our cities that were destroyed in the war? We haven't even been allowed to return home and entomb the dead that still lie in the streets. Don't you think that perhaps we no longer wish to conquer Cybertron, but simply want a place where we can survive?"

"Funny, seeing as you weren't willing to grant the Autobots the same thing," Kup noted with an acerbic edge to his voice. "You drove our kind near to extinction – why should we be easy on yours?"

"Kup!" Prime scowled at the gray-blue Autobot, his displeasure evident even through his mask. "I won't deny that the Decepticons have done despicable things. But that gives us no right to treat them horribly in return. We are better than that."

"So you're going to prove your superiority over us through kindness, are you?" Hook sneered.

Prime ignored the jab. "If we allow you to return to Cybertron, there will be strict conditions attached."

"Of course," Shockwave replied. "Though I would think the Prime would ensure such conditions were not overly tyrannical." Somehow he managed to smirk at Optimus even without a mouth to do so.

Prime arched an optic ridge, but elected not to comment. "The first condition must be taken care of immediately. I'm assuming there hasn't been time to select a new leader of the Decepticons since the uprising ended. The Decepticons must choose a new leader… and it must be one that I approve of. And I must have the right to reject your choice should I decide said leader will be a threat to our kind." He nodded at Deszaras. "As an example, I'm afraid you're out of the question, General Deszaras."

The Destron leader merely cackled, as if taking the rejection as a compliment. "Good to see my reputation remains among the Autobots. But no… once this joke of a negotiation is over, I'm taking my Destrons and returning to our world. There's no place on Cybertron for us, and we'd rather build anew on our own world than bow to the whims of the Autobots."

"That's your choice, then," Prime replied, nodding.

Glory hitched her wings higher in annoyance. This wasn't fair. The Decepticons got no say in who got to lead the Autobots. Why should Optimus Prime get any say in who led the Decepticons?

"I was under the impression that Shockwave was in charge," Elita pointed out, frowning in confusion.

"I led a portion of our faction under a neutral banner for a time," Shockwave clarified, "and led the opposition against Galvatron. However, I will take up the leadership if necessary-"

"Who says we want you?" demanded Motormaster. "What if I wanted to be leader, huh?"

"You and your Stunticons didn't even raise a hand to resist Galvatron until Glory convinced you otherwise!" Onslaught argued. "You think you can just swoop in and snatch up the leadership when others did the dirty work for you?"

Motormaster snorted. "Didn't stop Starscream, did it? And what, you think YOU can just jump in and take charge? When all you and your Combaticons did was roll over and let Galvatron stomp all over us?"

"If any of us has the right to lead, it is I," Hook cut in, stepping forward. "I put my spark on the line to see Cyclonus eliminated."

"You didn't even get the job done!" Motormaster snapped. "The kid had to finish it for you!"

"I did far more than any of you did," Hook retorted. "And besides, Glory and I had a deal." He gave Glory a sly smile. "We agreed to work together to eliminate Cyclonus, and she promised not to stand in my way if I sought the leadership for myself. Isn't that right, young Seeker?"

She frowned at the reminder. "I did promise that. But Motormaster's right – our attempt failed. And I made no promises beyond that first attempt."

Hook's visor flared dangerously. "So you'll stand in my way? You want the leadership for yourself, young Seeker?"

She sighed. "No. I do not, and have never wanted, leadership of the Decepticons. I've said that from the very beginning. The only reason I opposed Galvatron and Cyclonus was that they were not only incompetent, but brutal and cruel. I couldn't just stand idly by and watch while they ran the Decepticons into the ground and hurt my friends. I had to act… and if the only way to stop it was to put them out of power, then so be it."

It was only then that she noticed that Prime was regarding her with an odd expression in his optics. She had more she was going to say, but she went quiet. Something about that look bothered her… as if he were sizing her up.

She wasn't the only one to notice, apparently. Shockwave followed Prime's gaze, flicked his headfins back, and spoke up.

"If you have something to say, Prime, say it. You have your own idea as to who should lead?"

Prime nodded. "What about the Seeker?"

Dead silence. Glory felt her pump nearly stop beating in her chest. He wasn't implying…

"What about her?" Shockwave asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"She seems a likely candidate to be your leader." He ignored the stunned looks the Autobots gave him and continued. "She's compassionate, concerned for the welfare of your kind, and willing to do whatever it takes to ensure they are safe and cared for. And she's not afraid to stand up for what she believes in, even if it means standing up to someone who far outranks her." He chuckled softly. "By our standards, that would make her the perfect leader."

Hook gave a disdainful laugh. "Oh, please, Optimus… we're not stupid. The only reason you want HER to be the leader is because she's young and naïve, and can be easily swayed to your whims. You don't want a compassionate leader for our people; you want a puppet whose strings you can control at your leisure."

She glared at the Constructicon leader. How dare he imply that? She might be young and inexperienced, but she liked to think she wasn't the least bit naïve.

"Hook underestimates her capabilities, but he does have a point," Shockwave added. "She is young and untried, and has not yet had leadership experience to speak of. Her recent actions aside, she is not yet leader material."

"Then who do you propose to lead your kind?" Prime asked.

"Shockwave: best match," Soundwave intoned. "Leader of Decepticon forces on Beta Geode. Leader of Cybertron during Megatron's absence. Organized cleanup and capture of prisoners after battle on Chaar. Soundwave: supports Shockwave as new commander."

"Now just a…" began Motormaster.

"I second that," Glory put in, eager to have the spotlight off her. "He was a good leader on Beta Geode, and without him we never would have gotten Galvatron off the throne. And he cares not just about keeping us alive, but getting us home again. I support him."

Onslaught nodded slowly. "I, too, believe Shockwave would be the best choice. Certainly he's more fit for the job than a few other mechs I could mention."

"Hey!" Motormaster growled. "Why, I oughta…"

"Enough," Shockwave told them. "If you wish to contest my leadership, you may do so after this meeting is adjourned. Until then, I suggest you hold your peace."

Motormaster grumbled but subsided. Glory was certain the Stunticon leader wasn't as put out as he was making out to be, and that once this meeting was over he'd soon forget about the leadership and be content with raising havoc with his brothers. It was Hook she worried about – even though he didn't openly protest Shockwave as leader, he was gazing at the gunformer with a calculating expression, as if determining how much trouble it would earn him to offline him the next time he crossed the operating table. Should she warn Shockwave about this?

Prime considered, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I approve of Shockwave leading," he said at last, "so long as Glory has some sort of position among your officers. Inexperienced or not, she cares what happens to your people. She'd be wasted as a common soldier."

"Agreed," Shockwave replied before Glory could protest. "She will serve as Air Commander of the Decepticon forces. Soundwave will continue to serve as communications officer."

Glory opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn't come out. Air Commander! Even her uncle had never served in that position. True, he had never aspired to go that high… but then, neither had she. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself in any sort of command position – she was content to be a soldier and a friend to her fellow Decepticons, not an officer.

"Glory!"

Shockwave's shout brought her back to reality, and she shook her head and stood at attention. "Sir?"

"I asked if you accepted the position," Shockwave replied.

It took her a moment to reply. She didn't exactly want the title of Air Commander… but then, she didn't NOT want it either, strange as it sounded. Despite the suddenness of the request, she couldn't deny that it was strangely touching to know others thought that highly of her abilities. And if it put her in a better position to help the Decepticons… then she would accept it.

"I… I do, sir."

"Very good." He nodded and returned his attention to the Prime. "Is that acceptable?"

Prime nodded. "The first condition has been resolved to our satisfaction… but there are other conditions the Decepticons must meet before we're willing to allow you back on Cybertron."

"What sort of conditions?"

"For one, Galvatron will be turned over to us immediately. We intend to make him stand trial for his crimes against both Cybertron and the Decepticons. If found guilty, he will be executed."

"Agreed, so long as the Decepticons are allowed to testify against him."

"That is acceptable."

Glory frowned. The Autobots were notoriously easy on their captives, and if Galvatron was tried in an Autobot court it was always possible that he would get off far too easily, or even have charges dropped entirely on account of his insanity. It would be a cruel blow for them to come this far in making Galvatron pay for his crimes, only for him to go free at the Autobots' hands.

But if this was the price for them returning to Cybertron, then so be it. Some things were more important than revenge.

"There will be an immediate cessation of conflict between the Autobots and Decepticons," he explained. "This means you will not attack Autobot cities, outposts, or settlements, either on Cybertron or elsewhere in the galaxy. Likewise, you will not launch an attack against any world allied with the Autobots, or against any neutral colony. In return we will not initiate hostilities against your kind… unless it is required to defend ourselves."

Hook scowled. "You wish us to become civilians? To hang up our weapons and never fight again?"

"That's pretty much what he stated," Silverbolt pointed out.

"You cannot expect us to deny our natures," Onslaught protested. "Combat is in our very programming, Optimus Prime. And many of us have been fighting for too long to have any hope of settling down and leading a civilian life. We can only suppress our urge to fight for so long… which will make it all the worse when it finally does erupt."

"This war must end," Prime insisted. "It has already pushed Cybertron nearly to its breaking point. If hostilities do not end, we will end up destroying our world and each other."

"Agreed," Shockwave replied, "but not at the cost of rewriting our programming. You cannot turn us into Autobots – we would rather deactivate ourselves than let you alter our basic programming."

"I would never agree to that," Prime told him.

Shockwave's headfins pricked up in surprise. "You wouldn't?"

"No. I have never approved of such practices as rewriting a mech's programming or CPU-washing him into changing sides." He gave Ultra Magnus a sidelong look, and the truckformer glared back wordlessly. "I want you to agree to this by your own choice. You can choose to become better mechanisms… and for those who are unable to suppress their aggressive natures, I'm willing to offer a compromise."

"What sorta compromise?" Motormaster demanded.

"That the Decepticons return to their original function," Prime replied. "As Cybertron's military and defense forces. The Quintessons remain an active threat against our world, and there could be any number of hostile races who wish to do us harm. In light of this, it only makes sense to maintain an army… and what better fighting forces than those built and programmed for it?"

Glory nodded slowly. It made sense to her. Not only would it ensure Cybertron stayed protected, but it would give the Decepticons something to do, a function that fit their abilities and personal tastes. Had Prime been planning on making this suggestion all along? If so, why hadn't he approached the Decepticons about it earlier? It would have saved them a lot of pain… though perhaps he had known Galvatron would never agree to such a deal, and was waiting until another leader was in charge to make it.

Suddenly his insistence on approving of the next Decepticon leader made more sense. He wanted a leader in place who would see the logic in such a compromise, and agree to it. For all she respected Megatron as a leader, he never would have agreed to it, and Galvatron would have rejected it before Prime even finished speaking. But Shockwave was an intelligent leader, and surely he would see it was the best option for their kind.

"So Optimus Prime proves himself a logical leader after all," Shockwave noted. "You were always notorious for leading with your spark rather than your CPU. It pleases me to see you're capable of thinking logically as well as compassionately."

If Prime was at all insulted by that rather cold assessment, he didn't show it. "The best leaders lead with both spark and CPU, Shockwave. You have a brilliant mind, but I would hope you would take advice from your Air Commander from time to time." He extended his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." Shockwave reached across the table and clasped his hand. "The Decepticons shall return to Cybertron and serve as its military and defense forces. In return, we will be allowed to rebuild our cities and recall our forces from wherever they have scattered in the wake of the war."

"This is absurd, Prime," Magnus cut in. "There's no way in the Pit they're going to honor this truce. We let them return, they'll be trying to invade Iacon within a deca-cycle. And you honestly expect the Autobots to welcome them back with open arms?"

"I expect the Autobots to give them the benefit of the doubt," Prime replied. "They deserve a chance. And if it finally ends this destructive conflict between our kinds, then it's a risk well taken."

"I for one think it's a brilliant idea," said Elita. "The Decepticons have always been fighters. They know no other way of life. Instead of expecting them to suppress their true natures and conform to the Autobot way of life, why not put their abilities and energy to good use? It's a compromise that serves both our kinds well."

"Well said!" Jazz agreed, grinning broadly. "An' 'sides, even if they're soldiers at spark, I gotta imagine the 'Cons are just as tired of this war as we are. If they're willin' to cut a deal with us, why not take it?"

Kup grimaced. "Can't say that I like this. Deals with Decepticons have a nasty way of not working out in our favor."

"It's not about whose favor it works out in," Silverbolt put in. "It's about whether it benefits Cybertron as a whole, not one side or the other. And if they're willing to make this work, shouldn't we be too?"

Kup grimaced as if he'd bitten into something sour, but said nothing.

"Then it's settled," Prime said at last. "We'll draw this up as a treaty and sign it formally to make it official. In the meantime… we will return to Cybertron, and await your arrival."

Shockwave nodded. "We will require some time to repair and resupply for the journey. But expect our arrival within the next orn or so."

"Thanks for the warning," Hot Rod muttered.

"Mute it, punk," Hook growled.

"Autobots, return to Sky Lynx," Prime ordered. "Good luck, Shockwave. And thank you for hearing us out."

Shockwave stood and saluted as Prime and the others filed out. Motormaster managed to hold his peace until they were out of audial-shot, then let loose a string of curses virulent enough to nearly turn the air black.

"Fraggin' rotten scrapheaps," he finished. "Think they're so high-and-mighty 'cause they're Autobots. Can't believe you agreed to the deal."

"It was the best course of action," Shockwave replied. "One that would allow us to return to Cybertron without fear of extermination. We were in no position to argue."

"Are we really going to submit to their demands?" asked Onslaught. "We're Decepticons. We don't take orders from Autobots."

"It means an end to the war," Glory told him. "Don't you get it, Onslaught? It's over. It's finally over, and we get to go home! And even better, it's an end to the war that doesn't mean we have to give up what we really are and what we stand for. True, we're not in charge of Cybertron, but at least we can rebuild and return."

"She is correct," Shockwave added. "Our numbers are too low for any sort of conquest to be feasible. A truce with Optimus Prime was our best course of action. And if the Autobots fail to uphold their end of the bargain… then this at least gives us time to rebuild our numbers and plan our next course of action."

Onslaught nodded, mollified for the moment.

"Are you serious about the Seeker being one of your officers?" demanded Hook. "She's not even a vorn old. How can you expect her to lead competently when she has almost no experience?"

"Took down Cyclonus," Soundwave pointed out. "Stood up to Optimus Prime during interrogation. Young and inexperienced… but has proven herself. Will serve well as Air Commander."

Somehow, Soundwave's approval reassured her as nothing else could. The tape deck was not given to flattery or excessive praise, so any compliment coming from him had to be genuine. And he had long served as one of Megatron's top officers. The silver warlord hadn't lived long enough for her to actually fight under his command, but she had still greatly respected him even as a sparkling. Knowing that Soundwave had faith in her was the next best thing to gaining Megatron's approval, and it warmed her spark.

Shockwave nodded. "Hook, Motormaster, Onslaught, you are dismissed. Soundwave, Glory, accompany me to the command center. We have much to do."

Glory wanted nothing more than to go outside and find Blitzwing and Swift, and to give them the good news. But she nodded and followed Shockwave and Soundwave out of the conference room. She had new responsibilities now, and she would see that they were carried out. She only hoped that her new position would still give her time for the triple-changer and sparkling.


	25. Epilogue

When the Decepticons had left their base on Earth to return to Cybertron, Glory had been one of the few mechs reluctant to leave it. She had come to see it as home, grown to love the charm of living underwater on an organic planet, and somehow managed to be oblivious to the obvious dangers of living on an Autobot-occupied world despite her brief stint as their prisoner. Even now, some part of her wished to return someday, even if only for a visit.

Now, leaving Chaar behind to return to Cybertron again, she felt no such nostalgia. Her good memories of this planet were few and far between, and even that small handful revolved more around her friends among the Decepticons than anything special about the planet. She wouldn't miss this barren world when they finally left it behind – if anything, taking off with the rest of the Decepticons would be severing the ties to a painful part of her past.

She pulled her gaze away from the ramshackle collection of buildings that made up their base. There was nothing there for her anymore… or for any of their troops, for that matter. They had stripped everything useful from the base, from personal items to computer terminals to gun turrets. Perhaps some enterprising beings would come along and make some use of the buildings in their absence, but given that this world had no resources, it was far more likely that the base would rust and fall apart, eventually leaving no trace that the Decepticons had ever been here.

She preferred it that way. Cybertron was their home now, and the sooner they could put this difficult chapter of their past behind them, the better.

"Are we leaving yet, Mom?"

"Soon, little one," she assured Swift, reaching down to lightly squeeze the sparkling's hand. "We just need to make sure everyone's ready."

Swift nodded, clinging to Glory with one hand and squeezing Dragon tightly to her chest with the other. "Are there gonna be Autobots there?"

"Don't worry, Swift. The Autobots will leave us alone. They won't even be allowed in Kaon unless we invite them. And we want to make sure the city's rebuilt first."

Swift nodded and pressed against her leg. "Promise, Mom?"

Warmth flooded her spark at the title Swift had given her, and she gave her hand another comforting squeeze. "I promise."

Swift nuzzled against her leg one more time, then pulled away. "Can I go play with the cassettes, Mom?"

"Just don't go too far," Glory advised. "We'll be leaving soon."

Swift nodded and dashed off to go find Rumble and Frenzy. Glory watched her go, letting a smile form on her faceplates. She had never thought about being a parent before… but somehow it felt right. And even if Swift wasn't truly her creation, she still cared for the sparkling as if she were of her own programming.

"Is it safe for her to go off on her own like that?" asked Swindle, frowning.

"She's with the cassettes," Glory replied. "She'll be just fine."

"It's her being with the cassettes that I'm worried about," Swindle put in. "They're gonna corrupt her, you know."

Glory couldn't suppress a slight smirk. "I used to hang out with them all the time, Swindle. Does that make me corrupted too?"

"One could argue that," Swindle retorted with a slight laugh. "Though so long as she doesn't go hanging out with the Stunticons too, I think we'll be okay."

"Shame," she noted. "I was thinking of asking them to babysit the next time Shockwave called an officer's meeting."

Swindle gave her a weird look, as if trying to determine if she was joking or not. She simply darkened one optic in a wink and turned to scan the crowd.

It was hard to believe that these were the same mechs she had left behind when she had fled for the neutral base weeks ago… though so much had happened since then that it felt like a lifetime ago. Before Shockwave's revolution almost every mech on Chaar had borne some kind of unrepaired damage, or walked stiffly due to poor maintenance. Low fuel reserves meant that more often than not everyone operated at emergency energy levels, and it was far more common to see mechs slumped with exhaustion than upright and alert. And there had been a general air of hopelessness hanging over the base, a feeling that everyone had simply given up and resigned themselves to their fate.

Now, though… it was as if Primus had breathed new life into their forces. Hook and Steelwing had been working overtime the past few weeks, utilizing their newly replenished supply stores to repair and tune up every mech in the base. For the first time in years, mechs could refuel until they were fully re-energized, and not be restricted to inadequate rations. And also for the first time in years, mechs didn't live in fear of Galvatron or Cyclonus watching their every move, ready to lash out at the first imagined sign of insubordination or treachery. Whereas before a fog of doom seemed to hang over Chaar, now the Decepticons fairly buzzed with renewed hope and even excitement.

Well, most of the Decepticons, at any rate. One in particular was still moping on the sidelines, and she hurried over to check on him.

"Dead End, you okay?"

The maroon carformer shrugged. "That all greatly depends on your definition of 'okay,' Air Commander."

"Glory," she corrected. "Just Glory."

"You've gone up in rank, Air Commander," he reminded her. "It would be insubordination for me to refer to you by anything else. And you would be fully within your rights to pummel me within an inch of my existence for my lapse in protocol."

"Dead End, you've known me since I was a sparkling," she countered. "You're like an older brother to me, and even if things like rank have changed, that much hasn't. You've always just called me Glory, and you're still free to call me that."

He gave a deep, theatrical sigh. "I have a horrible feeling that I'm being set up for failure, but fine… Glory."

"That's better." Truth be told, she still wasn't fully comfortable with the whole Air Commander title yet. Perhaps, given time, she would grow more accustomed to her role and title, but for now it felt awkward, like wearing a chassis she wasn't programmed to use.

"And to answer your question in greater detail, I'm physically okay for the moment. But I'll be perfectly honest with you – we're all doomed."

"You always say that."

"I mean it more than ever, Glory. We're returning to an Autobot-occupied Cybertron, straight into the jaws of a trap. The Autobots want us all there in one place so they can wipe us out at their leisure. Surely you must see that."

She sighed deeply. "The Autobots don't want to prolong the war any more than we do. They finally want to lay down their arms and end the fighting. Is that such a bad thing?"

"Of course not… provided their means of ending the war once and for all doesn't entail ensuring our extinction. Difficult to have a war when your eternal foe is wiped out, after all."

She sighed deeply. "Still as impossible as ever, aren't you?"

"You should know by now that trying to get HIM to cheer up is a lost cause, kid," Blitzwing pointed out, walking up to join them. "Let him wallow if that makes him feel better. Personally I think he just does it for the attention."

"Oh, believe me, Blitzwing, I would much rather avoid unwanted attention," Dead End countered. "Though I suppose staying out of the spotlight only prolongs the inevitable…"

"Go mope somewhere else, why don't ya?" Blitzwing suggested. "I need to talk to Glory a moment." He gave him a pointed stare. "Alone."

"Oh, all right," Dead End huffed. "I can tell when my company isn't wanted, though all you really had to do was ask." He walked off.

"I still never understood what you saw in those guys," Blitzwing muttered. "They're a bunch of lunatics, the lot of them."

"They're better than you think they are," she told him. "They may act crazy and have their issues, but they're good mechs. And they've never done anything to hurt me."

Blitzwing shrugged, evidently deciding not to press the issue. "Got a moment?"

"Of course… what is it?"

He shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly awkward and vocalizer-tied. "Um… I dunno how to say this…"

She frowned. "Is everything all right?" She'd never seen him this nervous before, and she could only wonder what was wrong.

"Yeah, I just… argh." He gusted out a sigh. "Ain't no way to say this without sounding like a complete dork." He reached out and took her hand, then pressed something into her palm. "There."

She drew her hand back and gazed down at what he had given her – a small box of a glossy black metal. "What is it?"

"Just a little somethin'," he replied. "A token, I guess. It's custom for a mech to give a femme a little gift when he asks to bond with her, right?"

Her systems jolted, and she looked up to meet his gaze. "You… want to…"

"Bond." He stared down at the ground, kicking at a rock. "I wanna bond with you. If you'll have me. I know, I know, I'm ancient compared to you, and you severely outrank me… but I love you. And I want us to be together. I just… was kinda hoping you wanted the same thing."

A wild joy flooded her spark, and with a laugh she flung her arms around him. "Blitzwing! How could you think I wouldn't want the same thing? Yes… yes, I'd love that."

He froze, as if he couldn't believe she'd just agreed. "You would?"

"If you don't mind that you get a daughter as well as a bondmate," she replied. "Oh, Blitzwing, this is wonderful! As soon as we get settled in on Cybertron, we'll go the Hall of Records and make it official! We'll be a family!"

He chuckled. "A family… never thought I'd get one for myself. This'll be new… but a good new, I think." His gaze moved to her hand, which was still closed tightly around the box. "You gonna open that or what?"

Whoops. In her excitement she'd forgotten about the gift. Though truth be told, knowing he wanted to be part of her family unit was gift enough in itself. Releasing her hold on Blitzwing, she carefully lifted the lid to the box, revealing what looked to be some kind of computer component.

"What is it?" she asked, tilting her head quizzically. "Something from the archives?"

"It's a drone processor core," Blitzwing replied. "From… well, from Wildfire."

Again her systems jolted, as if her spark had suddenly flooded her systems with an extra burst of energy. "How did you… I thought…"

"We found it cleaning out the base stores," he explained. "I guess the Constructicons found what was left of him and stored the parts to use in repairs later. Waste not, want not, and all that." He smiled sheepishly. "Shockwave says we might be able to use that to rebuild him, and he could even tweak his processor so he can recognize Swift as his charge and protect her."

She gently touched the core – the last remnant of her old friend. "I thought I'd never see him again."

"Well… he WAS a drone. Drones don't exactly have sparks to extinguish. We can rebuild his chassis and have him up and running again soon. Let's hope Swift is up to having a pet."

She laughed softly and embraced him again. "Thank you… thank you so much."

"Not a problem, kid." He squeezed her tightly and lifted her off her feet, prompting a squeal of laughter from her. "Primus, life is wonderful right now, ain't it? No matter what Mr. Depresso says!"

"It'll be even better when we get back to Cybertron. When we get home."

"Home… never thought I'd see the day when we went back. But here we are."

 _Decepticons!_ Shockwave's voice over the radio, crisp and authoritarian, cut through their reverie. _Our preparations are completed! All forces will depart Chaar at once. Regroup at Kaon._

 _Copy, sir,_ Glory replied, and hugged Blitzwing one more time before letting go and dropping to the ground. "I have to go. Talk more when we get there?"

"Of course." He kissed her cheek once. "Fly safe, kid."

"You too."

Once Blitzwing had headed off to join the other triple-changers, Glory sent out a radio call of her own. _Seekers, Sweeps, transform and fly out! All possible speed! The sooner we leave, the sooner we get to Cybertron._

 _Copy, Air Commander,_ Scourge reported. _Sweeps in the air, ready to go._

 _We follow you, Commander Glory,_ Stormrunner replied.

 _We're all gonna die when we get there,_ Dirge grumbled.

 _Oh, don't start this again!_ Nightwatch grumbled. _You're worse than Dead End, I swear…_

Glory ignored the bickering for the moment and scanned the crowd, looking for Swift. She didn't have to look long – upon hearing Shockwave's announcement Rumble and Frenzy must have set off to look for her, and they showed up with the sparkling in tow.

"Figured you'd want to make the trip with the kid," Rumble explained. "She wanted to go with Soundwave, but he said no."

"Thank you, guys," Glory told them, bending down to scoop up Swift. "You don't mind entertaining her when we get to Kaon, do you? I don't think Shockwave wants her underfoot while we get the base set up."

"Never a problem," Frenzy grinned. "Maybe we can teach her a few tricks of the trade while we're at it. I wanna see Shockwave's reaction when he wakes up with a new paint job."

"Pink!" Swift shouted, throwing her hands up in the air with a giggle.

"We can arrange that," Rumble cackled.

"Don't push your luck too much," Glory warned. "Shockwave might not get angry as easily as Megatron, but I doubt he's going to take excessive pranking too well." Then again, he had worked alongside her mother for years, so perhaps he would be used to it already.

"Don't worry, we're experts at this kinda thing." Rumble saluted. "See you at the base, Air Commander!"

Swift giggled as the cassettes ran off. "I like them."

"I'm glad," she replied with a smile. "Very glad. They're good friends." She set Swift down, then transformed to jet mode. "Climb on… you can fly on my back for at least part of the journey, all right?"

Swift nodded and clambered onto her back, and Glory took off as gently as possible. The other fliers fell into formation behind her, a motley assembly of aircraft making their way back home to Cybertron… and to a new life. Not a life she had ever imagined herself having, but one she looked forward to nonetheless.

 _Mother… Father… Uncle… I wish you could see me,_ she thought wistfully. _You all wanted me to live to see the end of the war… and I got to help end it once and for all. I just wish you could be here with me, and see what I've become yourselves._

But the memory of her contact with Thundercracker returned, and a rush of warmth filled her spark. They were looking on from the Allspark, and somehow she sensed that they were immensely proud of her. She still missed them all, but she knew they wouldn't want her to dwell on their deaths. She would do all she could to make them proud of her… and maybe someday she would meet them again, and get to share with them everything she wanted to tell them.

But not now. Now she had a life of her own to live, and a family to take care of and a cause to serve.

Swift wriggled restlessly on her back. "How much farther?"

"We've got a ways to go yet, little one," Glory replied. "You can rest on the way if you want."

Swift hugged against her. "Sing me a song?"

She smiled internally, and while Swift made herself comfortable she began to sing.

" _It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside…"_

**Author's Note**

And so ends _Glory and Honor,_ the second installment of my series about Glory, my Decepticon OC.

Ever since I wrapped up the first story, _Thundercracker's Glory,_ I knew I would inevitably have to address a rather sticky issue – what would happen to Glory after the events of _Transformers: the Movie,_ and the death of the one who had been a parent figure to her? I admit, it was tempting to go in and revise the ending of the movie, making Glory's story turn out happier in the process. But in the end, I felt there were more fascinating elements to be explored in keeping with the canon events, and seeing how Glory would fit into Season 3 and beyond, as well as how she would interact with the S3 cast of characters.

One of the biggest obstacles I've had in writing Glory's story has always been in trying to avoid the biggest pitfall of all – the dreaded title of "Mary Sue." I've been very guilty of writing some blatant Mary Sues in the past, and have struggled to avoid doing that in my Transformers fanfics. The fact that Glory already falls into a few of the classic Sue traps (being a female Decepticon, being related to a canon character, etc.) didn't exactly help matters.

With this fic, I feel I've been pushing the boundaries of Sue-ism as far as they can go. Not only does she fall for a canon character, but she gains a position of some authority and even plays a role in overthrowing a series villain (even if her role wasn't a huge one). It's probably up to the reader to make the final judgment of whether she's finally stepped over the line into full-on Sue territory, but if she's a Sue, I at least hope she's been an enjoyable one.

And for those who are wondering – I don't hate the S3 characters. (Well, Blurr and Wheelie are sort of annoying…) Cyclonus is actually one of my favorite S3 characters, and I believe he would be a fascinating character to explore in a fic of his own. And while Rodimus Prime is not my favorite Prime, he still gets far worse of a rap from the fandom than he deserves. Still, I doubt Glory would get along terribly well with either of them… especially Cyclonus.

This fic gave me an opportunity to include a few new OCs, or at least OCs of mine that haven't gotten much attention in the past. Gizmo is an old OC of mine who first appeared in the short story _Gizmo Meets Proton_ and has shown up a couple times in my Riptide/Shortcut stories _,_ though he was first developed for a forum-based RPG.

Steelwing, the Decepticon spy/medic, first appeared in _The Recruitment Office,_ while Digger, Wavebreaker, and Stormrunner all came from previous RP sessions with friends. Maybe they'll get more story appearances later… Nightwatch first showed up in a Rabbit Hole Day journal, while Beatbox is a new creation.

Spinister, Deszaras, Leozack, and Lyzack are NOT my characters – Spinister comes from the comics, while Deszaras, Leozack, and Lyzack are from the Japanese G1 series _Victory._ (Lyzack only showed up in the manga, though.)

I don't know if there will be a third installment of Glory's story, but I do know that I'm not fully ready to call it quits with my OC quite yet. Even if I don't write another multi-chapter story, there's always one-shots. And it may be that Glory resurfaces in another TF universe somewhere down the road…

Thank you all for taking the time to read, and for getting to know my character. It's been a wonderful ride.


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